Heroes
by Drink Sparky Cola
Summary: Strange Days at Blake Holsey High A school shooting changes the lives of the students at Blake Holsey High School. PG-15 for violence and some language.
1. Prologue

Category: Strange Days at Blake Holsey High Author: Pibb Bear  
  
Title: Heroes  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Strange Days at Blake Holsey High/Black Hole High. God help me if I did, everything would be a LOT more miserable and depressing. I feel kind of bad for writing this... Every other story I've seen for BHH so far has been so... pleasant. Eh. It was about time for some serious angst. Enjoy. I'm out. ~Talismaniac  
  
Rating: PG-15 for dark themes, violence, and some language.  
  
Prologue: General  
  
Chapter One: Marshall  
  
Chapter Two: Professor Zachary  
  
Chapter Three: Corrine  
  
Chapter Four: Lucas  
  
Chapter Five: Josie  
  
Chapter Six: Vaughn  
  
Epilogue: General  
  
"A true friend is the most precious of all possessions and the one we take the least thought about acquiring." ~ La Rochefoucauld  
  
Prologue  
  
Blood. There was so much blood. This was the sole thought running through Vaughn Pearson's mind as he stood there, hardly noticed, completely unaware of his surroundings. The only thing he could concentrate on was the crimson stain down the front of his shirt, his pant legs, and the sticky substance almost completely covering his hands.  
  
Off in the distance, more sirens wailed, the droning falling into a sonorous rhythm with the one that was just now pulling up in front of the school. So close, yet always too far away... What was taking them so long?!  
  
Vaughn couldn't move, paralyzed with fear and despair. He simply stared at his hands... they were still covered with blood... blood that wasn't his... blood that belonged to the person lying on the ground before him... the person that was still looking up at him with fear in their eyes far greater than Vaughn's own.  
  
They're the one in pain Vaughn thought guiltily, slamming back to reality. They're the one who might die... A sudden terror seized Vaughn that stemmed from the hopelessness of the situation. What could he do to help? He needed to help...  
  
People were screaming all around Vaughn, screaming and crying. The entire scene was utterly chaotic and made Vaughn feel lost and afraid. He almost wished his father were there... but then the paramedics had arrived and were checking on the victims and before Vaughn could snap out of his thoughts entirely, they were surrounding him and elbowing him out of the way so they could get to the person on the floor.  
  
"Are you hurt?" Someone asked Vaughn.  
  
"What?" Vaughn was too distracted watching the paramedics working on his friend to notice that one of them had spoken to him.  
  
"I said 'are you hurt?' Are you injured anywhere?" He gestured to the blood covering Vaughn's clothes.  
  
"I—Uh, no. I'm not... It's not my blood." With a nod, the paramedic turned back to check for more victims and Vaughn was once again ignored.  
  
Snap out of it, Vaughn he thought to himself roughly. Your friend could be dying and all you can think about is your loneliness. Don't just stand there, do something...  
  
Blinking furiously, Vaughn moved forward as the paramedics were loading his injured friend onto a stretcher and starting to wheel it out of the room past the rest of the frightened or wounded teenagers. "Wait! Can I come with you?" He asked quickly then added, "Please."  
  
The older paramedic looked around the room quickly then at the arriving ambulances, before looking back to Vaughn. Meeting the teenager's eyes, he nodded. "Sure, you can come with your friend; just sit out of the way so we can work."  
  
"OK." Vaughn nodded and rushed to catch up with the departing gurney, whose passenger was currently looking around anxiously, trying to sit up.  
  
"What's going on? Where are we going? Vaughn—?"  
  
"Don't move, kid. We got ya." The paramedic spoke to his charge. He reached for the radio pinned to his uniform just below the shoulder and called to the ambulance. "Tommy, radio in to Mercy, tell 'em we're bringing in a male, approximately 16 years of age, with one GSW to the abdomen. Have a room ready by the time we get there. Oh, and Tommy—there are more victims where he came from. Tell them to be ready."  
  
As he pushed through the crowd of alarmed teenagers, shocked faculty, and busy police officers and paramedics, Vaughn tried not to get lost in the crowd again. Pushing his way next to the stretcher, he grabbed his friend's hand – also covered in blood – and grasped it firmly. "They're taking you to the hospital – and I'm gonna go with you."  
  
Slowly, the teenager nodded, not fully comprehending the situation still. Vaughn watched his face carefully, looking away and letting go of his grasp only to climb into the ambulance after the gurney. The doors were slammed shut and the paramedics went to work, but Vaughn remained still, picking up his friend's limp hand again and holding it tightly with both of his while the ambulance took off in the direction of the nearest hospital.  
  
"Everything's gonna be OK, Marshall." Vaughn assured the person lying before him.  
  
Marshall Wheeler breathed deeply, grimacing from the pain it caused. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "I'm going to die, aren't I?" He gasped with difficulty.  
  
Vaughn's heart leapt. "No. You're not going to die, Marshall. You're in good hands, I promise you." He held the teenager's hand a little more tightly. "Just stay with us, Marshall, and everything's going to be OK."  
  
Everything was turning black now...  
  
"Just stay with us." 


	2. Part One: Marshall

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Chapter One: Marshall [Earlier that day]  
  
Marshall Wheeler was NOT having a good day.  
  
As if being twenty minutes late for first period because your roommate forgot to wake you up wasn't bad enough, there hadn't been any warm water left in the showers, reducing Marshall to a shivering ice cube, and then when he'd tried to purchase his all-American breakfast of a banana and a Pepsi from the school store, he'd left his wallet there and had to return to retrieve it.  
  
I really need to buy a new alarm clock. Marshall thought as he ran back to the store through the empty halls. Or three. Yeah, that *might* wake me up next time...  
  
As he rounded the corner and passed the boy's bathroom on the first floor, something huge and hard smacked into him with a resounding 'thud' and knocked Marshall to the ground. Dazed and bemused, the teenager blinked several times until the world was back in order and pushed himself off the ground using the wall.  
  
"Hey, watch where you're going loser." A male voice said roughly. Thoroughly confused now, Marshall stood to see who had spoken. It was Chris Ghent, a boy that he knew from several of his classes. Chris had never been a very talkative person; he kept to himself all the time, writing in his notebook or listening to his CD player and he wore mostly black whenever he wasn't in uniform. Not the friendliest guy to run into in the hall. Right now he wore an angry expression with the black attire... but there was something else there in his façade too, something Marshall couldn't place... but it disappeared before he had time to discern anything and was replaced with a disinterested one.  
  
"Sorry." Marshall replied, still a little out of it. "But you could open the door more slowly next time... You really conked me." He rubbed his forehead where he could feel a lump starting to form.  
  
"Yeah, whatever." Chris replied, pushing past Marshall and walking off down the hall.  
  
"Well, 'I'm sorry, Marshall, that I ran into you so carelessly. Here, let me help you pick up your things!'" Marshall mocked bitterly, leaning down to grab his backpack and books. Under his chemistry text book, Marshall was dismayed to find his banana had been crushed, and reduced to a fine mush. Grimacing, he picked up the repulsive fruit and tossed it in the nearest trash can.  
  
"There goes breakfast." He sighed, then remembered he was still late and continued on to the school store.  
  
It was five minutes later that Marshall slipped into science class and into his seat next to Lucas Randall. Usually he was ecstatic to start the day off with a dose of science class, but he couldn't seem to find that elated mood today, especially with everyone turning to stare at him as he entered late.  
  
"That's it." Lucas muttered to his friend as he sat down on the stool next to him. "I'm buying you the loudest alarm clock I can find for your next birthday... and I'm putting it under your pillow."  
  
"You could always try throwing a bucket of water on my face every morning." Marshall suggested wryly. "But that might not be received well. What are we doing?"  
  
"Photosynthesis lab starts tomorrow, remember? We're going over the packet."  
  
"Oh, right." Marshall grabbed his own copy and studied it as Professor Zachary continued his lecture.  
  
Three hours later, Marshall's mood was not improving. After tripping on a stool in chemistry and having all the students laugh at him, then nearly failing a quiz on Macbeth in English class that he'd forgotten to study for the previous night, Marshall arrived at lunch and waited through the entire line for twenty minutes only to remember that he'd spent his last few dollars on his 'breakfast' that morning and didn't have any more money with him.  
  
Putting his lunch back, Marshall jogged up to his room and grabbed some more money, and was surprised to see a letter on his bed. Lucas must have checked his mail this morning and grabbed this for me, he thought, picking up the letter and opening it, temporarily forgetting that he still hadn't eaten anything today and ignoring the protesting of his stomach.  
  
The letter had been sent by the North American Scholarship Organization. Marshall knew right away that it was in response to the math contest he'd taken last spring in hopes of winning a scholarship. He ripped out the letter and unfolded it quickly. "Dear Mr. Wheeler," Marshall read to himself. He scanned the first few lines of the letter, his eyes widening as it sunk in.  
  
"I got it." He muttered to himself, amazed. "I made it to the top 25." After two rounds of contests involving geometry, algebra and trigonometry, Marshall had qualified to move onto the final round and compete for a $30,000 scholarship to the college of his choice. He'd thought he'd done well on the test, but he never expected to qualify, out of so many other kids.  
  
Smiling to himself that his day had just gotten a little better, Marshall shoved the letter into his pocket, snatched his money and went down to the lunch room to tell his friends.  
  
Unfortunately, the good feeling had vanished by the time he reached the lunch room. A huge crowd of students had gathered near the lunch line and, curiously, Marshall pushed his way through the crowd to see what was going on. He found Vaughn in the center of it all – with Madison practically hanging on his arm – then found Josie and Corrine nearby. Lucas was nowhere to be found.  
  
"Hey, what's going on?" He asked the girls.  
  
"Oh hey, Marshall, you'll never believe it." Josie said excitedly. "Vaughn just got a letter today from the NASO – he got a scholarship for football, for any college he wants.  
  
"Oh." Marshall said, slightly surprised by the coincidence. "Uh, so did I, actually."  
  
"What? I didn't hear you." Corrine asked, raising her voice to be heard above the chattering teenagers all marveling over Vaughn's achievements.  
  
"I said, 'so did I.' I got a scholarship—"He held up the letter for the girls to see.  
  
"For football?" Josie wrinkled her brow.  
  
"No—for that math contest I took in May, remember?" Marshall yelled.  
  
"Oh, well that's cool, Marshall. Congratulations." Corrine patted him on the arm, then turned back to Josie, who was staring at Madison and Vaughn with some kind of abject fury. Vaughn looked briefly at the flirtatiously giggling Madison, laughing nervously to humor her, then turned in the direction of Josie, his embarrassment showing. For a minute it seemed like he was about to slip past Madison and her friends to make it over to Josie but the blonde cheerleader grabbed his elbow and pulled him back, so his back was facing the now-fuming redhead.  
  
"I've got to use the rest room." Josie said and squeezed past the students – including a helpless looking Vaughn – to the hallway.  
  
Corrine looked indecisive for a minute then said, "I should go ... too. I—I need to ask Josie something. I'll be right back—"  
  
"Oh, uh sure... Hey, wait, have you seen Lucas around?" Marshall asked.  
  
"Um, no... I—I think he's still with Professor Z, talking about the lab or something. He said he'd be late to lunch." Corrine was already backing away into the crowd. "See you later, Marshall."  
  
"OK, I'll just—I'll just go sit by myself." He said quietly, making his way over to the lunch line to finally get his lunch. As he waited for his change, Marshall turned back to the crowd several feet away and watched Vaughn and all his admirers, suddenly feeling a pang of jealousy.  
  
Vaughn gets all the attention, he thought bitterly. I beat 100,000 students in a rigorous math contest and make it so far... and all my friends care about it Vaughn's amazing football scholarship. "Not like his dad can't afford to send him wherever he wants anyway." Marshall muttered aloud. A thought suddenly struck him and brought Marshall back to reality. Whoa there, buddy, he warned himself, careful where your thoughts take you. Remember last time you felt ignored? You don't want to go all Invisible Man on yourself again, do you?  
  
Marshall added to his mental notes to just take it easy and roll with the punches, but he was finding that very difficult to do. Today had been nothing but stressful, and his one tiny ray of light had been smothered by Vaughn's own success. His friends hadn't asked him anything about his day, and then had all summarily ditched him to do... he didn't even know *what* they were doing, anyway.  
  
With one last look at Vaughn, who was now glancing around the room like he was looking for someone while pretending to listen to his friends' conversations, Marshall turned to get his change from the lunch lady, but stopped suddenly at the sound of some indistinguishable noise in the distance.  
  
Both he and the lunch lady and about five other students closest to the door looked toward it to see what it is they'd heard. There was more, some sort of noise that resembled small explosions... then the screaming started... Abruptly, the room grew silent as the sounds continued, seeming to come closer. No one spoke... then with a pang, the realization hit them.  
  
Gunfire. It was gunfire. Someone was shooting off a weapon in the school.  
  
Immediately the sounds in the lunch room rose again. Teenagers started murmuring amongst themselves, some shouting to get out of there. The room had rapidly descended into chaos, but Marshall just stood there, not knowing what to do or think. He just stood, rooted to the spot, still holding his lunch tray as students rushed past him to get out of the lunch room.  
  
And then there he was. Outside of the lunchroom, blocking the exit was Chris Ghent, holding a rifle with one hand, waving it around. Marshall was transfixed, not knowing what to do or say. Chris was yelling out threats to the other students, screaming obscenities and pointing the gun in people's faces. Kids were screaming but Marshall just stood there... and then Chris lowered the gun at a girl, and shot her in the chest.  
  
A noise that didn't sound human escaped Marshall's throat and he dropped the tray of food. It clattered to the floor loudly but Marshall didn't notice. He was backing up against the lunch counter, hands on the edge and gripping the Formica surface.  
  
He couldn't believe the horror he had just witnessed. He knew that girl. He knew her. He had never been friends with her, since she was a cheerleader and one of Madison's friends... but five minutes earlier she had been alive and well and chatting with her friends on the other side of the room and now she was pale and unmoving, lying on the ground in a puddle of her own blood. Her life was spilling out around her and no one would go forward to help her.  
  
Chris was still yelling threats. There were more gunshots. More people Marshall knew fell to the ground. A teacher rushed forward attempting to remove the gun from Chris's grip, but he fell the ground a moment later, clutching his neck where Chris had shot him...  
  
Tears streamed down Marshall's cheeks, and he turned to look around the room for another escape. It was then that he noticed Vaughn was still in the room. The crowd surrounding him had dispersed. Students were on the floor in huddles, crying and trying to ensconce themselves behind tables or garbage cans. In the middle of it all, there sat Vaughn, kneeling down next to Madison. He was staring at her in shock. There was blood pouring from her thigh where Chris had shot her and she was crying hysterically for the pain to go away, for everything to stop.  
  
"Shut her up!" Chris yelled, waving the gun still. "I said SHUT HER THE FUCK UP!" Chris pointed the gun at her again.  
  
"No, NO! Wait, don't do it!" Vaughn pleaded in a shaky voice. "I'll get her to be quiet." He pulled Madison closer to himself, putting his arms around her. She heaved a sob into his shoulder, but still would not stop screaming. "Madison! Madison, shh, shh, it's OK. You have to be quiet, Madison. Do you understand me? You have to shut up now – please!"  
  
"No, no," Madison sobbed, pounding her fist on his shoulder. "Not until he goes away. Make him go away, please Vaughn. I don't want to be here, I don't want – I just want to be home with my daddy. I don't want to be here—"  
  
"You spoiled, rich kids are all the same." Chris muttered. "Just run to daddy and he'll make everything better. You really don't care about the consequences of your actions, you NEVER DO." He yelled. "You think you can just push people around all you want because you think you're better than them and you'll never have to pay for it because they'll never act on their pain. They're too much in fear of you to respond.  
  
"Well, I'm going to make sure you all pay for the things you do!" Chris screamed, his voice hoarse now. "Daddy can't help you right now. I'm sorry, Madison. You committed yourself to this fate every time you acted the way you always do to people you're 'superior' to. Goodbye." With that, he cocked the gun, aimed it at her chest and pulled the trigger.  
  
Madison's body jerked involuntarily and she slumped down to Vaughn's lap. The latter jolted back, too shocked to think rationally, and jumped to his feet. "STOP IT, STOP IT, GOD, PLEASE JUST STOP THIS!" He screamed, his voice cracking. "You can't do this, Chris. You can't just assume the role of God and choose who gets to live and die! This is insanity – you just killed a person, Chris! You killed people today! Do you even realize that?"  
  
"Wow, the illustrious Vaughn Pearson actually knows my name." Chris said, sounding impressed. "I never would have figured it. Didn't think you'd have time for 'social outcasts' like me. Too busy with your football and your cheerleader friends to ever notice me when I'm not holding a gun. Three years. THREE YEARS that we've gone to school together, Vaughn Pearson, and you've never once said hello to me. Not *once*."  
  
Vaughn dropped his arms to his sides dejectedly, then shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry." He said sincerely. "I'm sorry for not noticing you more, Chris." He seemed to have nothing else to say, Marshall noticed. His energies were spent, but his eyes were eager. He truly, honestly meant what he said, Marshall realized.  
  
"You deserve to die." Chris said fiercely, his dark eyes flashing. "If people are allowed to go through their lives treating others the way they do and not be punished for it, then they shouldn't be allowed to live in this world." He raised the gun and pointed it directly at Vaughn. The latter flinched, but remained in the spot, unmoving.  
  
This can't be happening, Marshall thought to himself. I just watched people I know get shot, friends, some of them... Now I'm about to watch another one die, and I just can't handle this. Vaughn doesn't deserve to die, no one here does. He didn't do anything wrong... he didn't do *anything*...  
  
"Chris." Marshall found his voice, and was not surprised to hear how shaky it was, though he was surprised that he was able to get any sounds out. Chris Ghent turned to look at Marshall, and so did Vaughn reluctantly, though he was still aware of the gun trained on him.  
  
"What do you want?" Chris snarled.  
  
Marshall shook his head, disbelieving. "Chris, you can't do this. You can't go around shooting people who wronged you in life. You won't solve any of your problems this way, believe me." He said steadily.  
  
"Oh, no? Well, I'd say I'm solving quite a few of my problems just fine." He said roughly.  
  
"No, you don't understand. Whatever it is that made you do this today, whatever problems you have that possessed you to take these horrible actions... they're not going to go away because of this. Things will only get worse for you."  
  
"Things have been at their worst for a long time. You don't know anything about me. You've got friends, Marshall. I don't have any friends, I don't have a family that loves me, or money or anything. I've got absolutely NOTHING to lose."  
  
Without realizing what he was doing, Marshall was taking a few steps forward, toward Chris. The teenager with the weapon seemed to realize this but he didn't move at all, keeping the gun focused on Vaughn. "Chris, I know what it's like to have people not notice you!" Marshall pleaded. "I get where you're coming from, I really do. I've been there myself, but you know what you've got to do?" Another step. "You've got to just accept these things and move on." Another step. Now there were only a about five feet separating them.  
  
"Things might have been better for you if you'd done it earlier. I'm sorry that can't happen now, Chris. But you can still walk away from this without killing anyone else. You don't have to resort to this to solve your problems." Marshall snuck a glance at Vaughn who was breathing heavily now, looking very much like he wanted to run, or try to grab the gun. Marshall hoped he didn't have to do either. He looked back at Chris, who had a timid look on his face. "You don't need to do this, Chris."  
  
A small sigh escaped the boy's face. The gun in his left hand lowered slightly, but not completely. For a brief moment, it looked like he might release the weapon and give in... but then his face got fierce again. "That's where you're wrong. I will NOT let you people get away with the things you've done."  
  
It all happened so abruptly, that Marshall didn't have time to act. The only thing he knew in that moment was that Vaughn did not deserve to die, and that he – Marshall – was not going to let him. In a flash he had pushed Vaughn out of the way and heard the sound of a single gunshot going off, then pain exploded in his abdomen.  
  
Marshall faltered, suddenly very dizzy, and started falling to the ground. Still shocked at the events that had transpired, Vaughn caught his arms and lowered him to the ground, collapsing with him. Mouth agape and eyes wide, Vaughn sat with his legs crossed on the ground, his friend's head in his lap. Marshall was dimly aware of someone smoothing the hair out on his forehead, someone else calling for help, someone else groaning in pain... It took a full minute for him to realize that the last one had been from him. He was so disoriented now... he could barely tell what was going on around him.  
  
Even Chris was too shocked to move for a few moments. He hadn't meant to shoot Marshall. He had been aiming for Vaughn Pearson... but Marshall had taken the bullet for no reason. Why had he done that? Why would anyone do something like that for someone they barely knew? With these thoughts mulling over in his mind, each fighting for supremacy, Chris backed away from the crowd, breathing deeply.  
  
"Now look what you've done." Vaughn breathed, looking up at Chris with tears in his eyes. "Why did you have to do that? Why? Why couldn't you have shot me instead?"  
  
"I—I didn't mean—"Chris regained his composure, straightening up and holding his head high with false confidence. "It's his own fault. He shouldn't have gotten in the way." He said coldly. "This is the end now, Vaughn. I'm almost finished." Vaughn looked at the boy, blinking back tears, clutching Marshall's shoulder. Chris had a far off look in his eyes now.  
  
"You got lucky today, Vaughn Pearson. You were saved." To Vaughn's surprise, Chris raised the gun to his own head. "But no one will save me."  
  
Chris Ghent pulled the trigger. 


	3. Part Two: Professor Zachary

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Chapter Two: Professor Zachary  
  
The school was in chaos. Despite the fact that the ambulances had dispersed and taken with them the numerous victims of the shooting, there were still lots of teenagers and faculty around in the hallways and out in front of the school, crying or talking to police or just sitting quietly in shock, letting the horror of the ordeal sink in.  
  
Professor Zachary hadn't been near the shooting when it had happened. He'd been in his office grading papers when he heard the gunfire and the screaming... As soon as he'd heard it he had called the police and rushed to see what was going on, but when he'd hit the stairs, a security guard had stopped him and yelled at him to stay where he was. Not long after, it was all over, and he was allowed to come down, but he couldn't get near the cafeteria until after the paramedics had departed. The police had arrived and ushered all those who weren't directly involved into another room to be questioned as a whole and informed of the situation.  
  
The shooting had started in the first floor hallway near the entrance, where some students commonly hung out or ate during the lunch period. Chris had then proceeded down the hall toward the cafeteria, where most of the students were at lunch time and, after holding the room hostage for awhile, he had shot himself in the head.  
  
That was all the teachers had been told. Either nothing else was known, or the police thought they didn't need to know yet. During the entire questioning ordeal, the professor had been observing the other faculty, Principal Durst in particular. Durst was calm and collected when nothing was going on at Blake Holsey High – and admittedly, that didn't happen often – but even in the paranormal crises she was forced to endure, she kept a relatively level head and didn't do anything drastic... But now she looked... she just looked lost, to say the least. This was too much for her. In the past she'd been able to avoid having the police come to Blake Holsey and Zachary and the kids had been able to solve the problems, but now... Now he didn't know what to do. Nobody did, and it was driving Durst crazy to be so helpless, Zachary knew. She didn't like having situations be out of her control. It was an emotion she fought to deal with every day, and Zachary sympathized with her every time, this time especially because he was on the same boat...  
  
When the police had finished their briefing and allowed them to disperse, Durst had risen slowly and began to walk toward the door, but Zachary stopped her, grabbing her elbow gently. "Principal Durst—"  
  
The older woman looked dazed for a moment, then turned and looked into Zachary's eyes. "Oh, Professor Zachary... how are you? Thank you for calling the police by the way. It was very helpful."  
  
"It's all right." I just wanted to see how you're doing." Zachary told her sympathetically.  
  
"Me? Oh, I'm fine... Honest, I am. It's those poor children we have to worry about. They've been through Hell today. It's terrible, what's happened, isn't it? I never would have thought at Blake Holsey High... that something like this— Oh I can't talk about it right now. We should really be making some rounds, calling parents and, oh my I've never had to deal with this before."  
  
"It's alright, we'll get through it somehow." Zachary told her. "We've just got to deal with the situation as we go along – like we always do."  
  
Durst nodded. "Yes, well, I must be going now. Don't let any of the students leave the grounds, Professor. If you need me, I'll be in my office." Zachary watched her walk off in the direction of her office then slowly turned toward the epicenter of the chaos.  
  
Grieving students were all over the place. All of the phones were occupied with students calling their parents. Zachary took a deep breath, searching the faces in the crowd and it was then that he realized he hadn't seen any of "his students" since before the shooting had occurred.  
  
A sick feeling lingered in his stomach and he moved forward cautiously, searching the hallway for any sign of the five members of the science club, secretly his five favorite students in the entire school. He wasn't about to believe that all of them could be... No, he wouldn't think it.  
  
He had a hard time getting to the cafeteria undisturbed. Zachary kept getting stopped by students or staff asking if he'd seen anyone in particular, and the professor had to shake his head. As he continued on his way, he passed dark red stains on the hardwood floors, evidence that someone's life had been threatened there, or possibly taken... It was all too much to bear, much less comprehend.  
  
Zachary arrived to find the cafeteria an even bigger mess than the hallway. Everywhere he looked, it seemed, there was blood, or someone crying or overturned tables and food everywhere. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach and turned to the nearest trash can, throwing up the contents of his stomach. When he was positive he was finished, he stood up, wiping his brow with his sleeve, and that was when he saw the girls.  
  
They were on the other side of the room, talking to a police officer. Well, Corrine Baxter was talking to a police officer. Zachary noticed that she was standing and wrapping her arms around her waist in a gesture of discomfort while she spoke to him. She kept searching the room as if she hoped to find something – or someone.  
  
Josie Trent on the other hand, was sitting on the desk, legs pulled in to her chest with her arms encircling them. She had a blank look on her face and was staring at some indiscriminate point. Zachary followed her gaze and saw the large blood stain in the middle of the floor that no one had bothered to clean up yet and hoped vainly that she wasn't looking at that, but he knew that she was.  
  
The police officer seemed to have finished talking with Corrine and he walked away from the two girls, leaving them looking alone and lost. Professor Zachary approached them cautiously, and as he did so, Corrine looked up, opening her mouth to speak, but ultimately not finding the words. Her eyes were red and her cheeks tear-stained and Zachary could tell right away she'd been crying. When he reached her, neither could speak and he ended up pulling her into a hug instead.  
  
Corrine sobbed into her teacher's shoulder, embracing him as she cried. Josie remained unmoving, staring still at the floor apathetically.  
  
After a minute, the two pulled apart. "You two aren't hurt are you?" Zachary asked them.  
  
"No." Corrine answered for them both. "We hid...in the bathroom. We were too afraid to come out until—until we heard the police get here. We hid in a stall until they came in and got us and we didn't see much. They wouldn't let us look in the cafeteria, Z'. They told us to wait in the auditorium with the other students and we don't know what's going on and no one will tell us." She choked.  
  
"Shh, shh, it's OK, Corrine." he comforted her. "We'll find out soon enough. They'll tell us... the police – when they find out. Not even the faculty knows everything yet."  
  
Corrine sniffed and rubbed her already swollen eyes. "I'm sorry." She apologized to her teacher.  
  
"What for?" Zachary had been observing the still-silent Josie, concerned for the redhead's state of mind, but he focused his attention of the other teenager when she apologized. "Corrine, you have nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"I know, I just... I don't know what's going on. And I hate that no one's telling us, like we wouldn't understand. And I can't find the boys. I don't even think Lucas was in the cafeteria before the... before... and I don't know where Vaughn is, Professor Z, and..." she let out a sob, "Z'"  
  
"What is it?" He asked her.  
  
"Someone said that they took—that they took Marshall to the hospital." A tear slid unheeded down Corrine's cheek. Zachary felt that sinking feeling return and he sighed.  
  
"I wish I could tell you more, Corrine, but there's nothing I can do."  
  
"Nothing?" Corrine asked fearfully. Zachary nodded remorsefully. "Can't you..." She halted mid-conversation and pulled the professor aside so they were out of hearing range of the rest of the room – Josie included. "Can't you take us to the hospital? So we can see, if Marshall or Vaughn or Lucas is there? I'm worried, Z'."  
  
Zachary shook his head. "Corrine, I can't do that. I'm not allowed to let any of you leave the grounds without permission. They want to make sure they keep track of everyone."  
  
Corrine was exasperated. "We can tell someone we're leaving, can't we? I really need to get to the hospital, Z'. I have to see if they're there. I can't take the waiting. Besides—"She lowed her voice, "I'm kind of worried about Josie. She's barely said five words since it's happened. It's like she can't believe that it happened, any of it."  
  
"Well... none of us can," Zachary gave his pupil a concerned look, suddenly fearful for the way she was handling the crisis herself, then relented when she continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer. "Although, I can tell just by looking that your concern for Josie is warranted." He sighed, turning to look at the police officers. "I'll see what I can do, Corrine."  
  
A faint smile appeared on the girl's lips. "Thanks, Z'. You're the best."  
  
After nearly ten minutes of arguing and pleading on professor Zachary's behalf, the police officer stationed closest to the door reluctantly allowed him to leave with the two girls, as long as they signed out on a sheet and promised to call their parents.  
  
Zachary, surprised at his own success, walked back over to Corrine and Josie and said, "Alright, you guys can come with me in my car... I told the officer that Corrine's brother might be at the hospital and she wanted to go check and see if he was there."  
  
"Oh, thank you so much, Z'. That's great."  
  
"Not quite. I just lied to a police officer in the middle of a crisis, Corrine. Let's just hope he doesn't find out there is no Dean Baxter in the school. And you two have to promise to behave yourselves—" Corrine nodded vigorously, "—And—and call your parents too!"  
  
"OK, Z', we will. Come on Josie." Corrine was already heading for the door. Josie stirred on the table, but did not move from her spot yet. Zachary walked over until he was facing her and looked her in the eyes, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Josie, are you OK?" He asked her sympathetically.  
  
Josie blinked once, as if snapping out of a reverie and glanced upwards slightly. "Huh? Oh, yeah... yeah, Z', I'm fine. Don't worry about me."  
  
"I can't help it. I always worry about my students. Now, with all that's happened today... Well, I have good reason to worry. I'm allowed to worry... especially when one of my most talkative students hasn't said a word in almost twenty minutes.  
  
"I'm sorry, Z'. I don't mean to make anyone concerned. I'm just... thinking, is all. I'm alright, honestly." Josie looked at her teacher with a fairly bold expression, given her current situation. She smiled slightly then picked up her sweater, which she's lain on a chair and hopped off the table. "Let's go."  
  
Cautiously sighing, Zachary followed the girls out through the hall and past the officer who had released them. His car – a navy blue Focus – was parked in the usual parking spot in the teacher's lot, and he opened the door for Josie to get into the back seat while Corrine climbed in the front.  
  
Offering one last lingering glance at the front doors to Blake Holsey High, through which various staff, officers and firemen had poured, professor Zachary opened the driver's side door, got in, and pulled out of the parking lot in the direction of Mercy Hospital. 


	4. Part Three: Corrine

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Chapter Three: Corrine  
  
Corrine had never been one to lose her head in a tough situation. She liked to think that she was particularly skilled at keeping things straight in her mind. I mean, she was excellent at keeping things straight in her room, was she not? But arriving at Mercy Hospital was like nothing else Corrine had ever experienced in her sixteen years on the planet, and she quickly found herself descending into confusion and timidity.  
  
There were people everywhere. Injured victims, sick victims, families of victims, paramedics, nurses and doctors rushing from patient to patient and tending to the ones that were deemed to be in the most immediate danger. Corrine was sure that a hospital ER could not always look this frantic, that it was just a side effect of the shooting, but she vowed at that moment never to become a doctor in an ER. She wasn't sure she could handle the chaos. She needed to have a handle on the situation, to be in control of what was going on.  
  
This whole day had been out of her control, Corrine thought with a grimace. She'd never experienced anything like it before in her life and it was terrifying and wretched and she hoped to never have to live through it again... and she'd been hiding in the bathroom the whole time. If she was traumatized from being in the other room... she couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like for those outside of it who watched their friends get shot, watched them die...  
  
Corrine quickly pushed the thought out of her mind and resolved to remain in charge of her emotions for the rest of the day. The worst is over, right?, she asked herself. Now all you have to do is find out where Marshall, Vaughn and Lucas are, prove that they're all right, and go back to Blake Holsey. She could put this whole day behind her and sleep – she could really go for some sleep right now. She hadn't gotten much the previous night because she'd been up until one working on a history project – an 11 page term paper on the Cold War. She had dozens of pictures that she included, and graphs and tables, all kinds of information, all labeled and categorized... she was sure she would get a perfect grade on it – if she ever got to turn it in...  
  
Oh hell, Corrine thought, blinking back the tears that threatened to surface. Some of your classmates just died today and you're thinking about a stupid history project?! How self-centered and aloof can you be? You need to focus on what's important. There will be plenty of time for the things you left behind later. Right now, it's time to look ahead...  
  
Corrine turned to her left where Professor Zachary had joined her, Josie on his other side, still looking like she was cold, even though she was wearing her jacket, buttoned up snugly. Corrine had been worried about Josie after the shooting, after the two had been coaxed out of the girls' room by the police. Corrine had been crying before, as silently as she could manage, but when she came out of the bathroom to witness the commotion just across the hall, she cried even harder. At first, she and Josie had been ushered in a room with some other unscathed students, shivering – whether from the temperature or from the horror of the day, it was not immediately evident – but eventually, the police had moved on to other matters, and the two girls, inquisitive by nature, had snuck out of the room to see if they could find their friends, only to be brushed aside and overlooked with all that was going on.  
  
As Corrine thought about it, it was only after they had left the secured room that Josie had lapsed into silence. Immediately following the shooting she had been collected and insistent – eager to find out what had gone on; only after they found themselves in the cafeteria had she stopped talking... Observing her quickly in the entrance to the ER, Corrine also noticed that the unresponsive look she had carried before had been replaced by one of abject discomfort, like she was distracted by something...  
  
But before she could ask anything else, Zachary took hold of her elbow. "Come on, stick close to me. I don't want either of you girls to get lost. I shouldn't even have brought you here." He said, more to himself than to either Corrine or Josie.  
  
The trio pushed their way through the crowd up to the front desk where a stern yet harried looking woman was answering phones while simultaneously scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Alright, MVA – how many victims did you say? Three critical, six minor... No, we can't take any more than one – we're swamped, in case you hadn't heard about the school shooting. We can take one critical and two minor, but you'll have to take the rest to Sacred Heart... OK, ETA is 8 minutes. Got it, we'll be ready." The woman scribbled this on the paper as she hung up the phone and without looking up, asked, distractedly, "Waiting room's over there, folks."  
  
"I'm sorry, we're just... we're looking for any victims of the school shooting." Zachary began.  
  
"We have quite a few of those, I'm afraid." The woman said dismissively.  
  
"Well, we're looking for three young men in particular—"Zachary began. "If you could give us any information, like a room number or a status we'd really appreciate it. The names are Vaughn Pearson, Marshall Wheeler, and Lucas Rand—"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. Really, I am, but that whole situation's a complete mess right now and we really don't know any more than you do. We're trying to get the names of the victims up here right now, but we're a bit crowded, if you couldn't tell and—Hold on a second—"She plucked the phone from it's cradle and pressed a button on the keypad, answering with a crisp, "Mercy—what's your status... OK... No. I already told the 77 that we can't take any more critical victims... No, it's out of the question. If you want to send us more doctors, then you can send us more patients."  
  
Corrine had been standing by silently, wanting to speak, but the stern woman ignored her actions and continued to talk into the phone. Finally Corrine raised her voice, "Excuse me, but I just wanted to find my... my brother. I think he might be here and—"The woman waved Corrine off with her hand flippantly and strained to hear her phone conversation. "Couldn't you just tell us where the victims of the shooting were taken?!" Corrine shouted.  
  
Still the nurse ignored the three people before her and finished her phone call, laying the receiver back in its cradle. Annoyed, she turned to the girl to berate her, but softened when she saw the frightened expressions the girls wore. She sighed heavily, pushing a few strands of her red hair away from her face. "Look, if you really want to find your—your brother did you say?" Corrine and Zachary nodded, though the nurse looked dubious. "I'd say just check around the waiting room first. There are a lot of people here and it's very likely they could be in there waiting to be seen. If you can't find any of your friends there then you can look upstairs in ICU. They won't let any visitors in right now aside from family, but you might be able to find out something—"The phone began its incessant ringing once more and the exasperated look returned. "—I'm sorry I can't help you anymore."  
  
"No, that's fine, thank you very much, Miss." Zachary said gratefully.  
  
"Yeah, thank you." Corrine added.  
  
As one, the trio turned back around to face the bustling waiting room, dismayed to see mostly strangers. "Where should we start?" Josie muttered.  
  
"Why don't we just... start at one side and work our way around to the other?" Zachary suggested, looking rather intimidated himself.  
  
"Sounds fine to me." Corrine said, leading the way. The trio walked slowly through the crowds of people. Drunkards and homeless patients littered the aisles and the hallways, on gurneys or sitting in chairs. Mothers holding sick and wailing children waited in chairs, looking anxious to be out of there – Corrine could relate – but not daring to lose their seat. And it was true; there were hardly any places to sit. Nearly all the chairs were occupied. In no small way could Corrine sympathize with the doctors and nurses at Mercy Hospital on that day, or any other day for that matter, if the hospital was normally even half as bad as it was then.  
  
Corrine's eyes met briefly with a man who must have been in his mid- to late-seventies who was sitting tiredly in a chair in the corner holding a bloodied rag to his forehead. His eyes held a haunted, detached presence that unsettled Corrine and sent a chill running through her body. She quickly turned away and stared at a spot outside the hospital's bay doors, if only to escape the disturbing expression she'd witnessed from the elderly patient. The feeling of wanting to be somewhere else increased tenfold but Corrine ignored it, shoving it deep down inside of her where her fear and pain were also trying to escape. Lock it up, she instructed. Find your friends first. What if they need you?  
  
That was then she saw her – finally, someone she knew. "Professor." She called, getting Zachary to turn. "Look, it's Tina, uh, Tina—Gedrick. That's her name. She's a cheerleader, and I think she's friends with Vaughn. Maybe she's seen him somewhere." Corrine was already halfway across the room, calling out, "Tina—Tina!"  
  
Slowly, Tina raised her head, astonished to see who was calling to her. She had, perhaps, not been expecting to see Corrine Baxter in the emergency room, calling out to her. She looked past Corrine at Zachary and Josie, then back at the first girl. "What is it?" She asked, "What do you want?" Corrine noticed that Tina was sitting with her left wrist on her lap, holding an ice pack on it.  
  
"I, uh—Are you alright?" Corrine asked quietly, gesturing to the arm."  
  
"Me? Oh, yes, I'm fine." Tina's voice was small and afraid – a tone Corrine was not used to hearing from the usually bubbly and outgoing cheerleader. "I just fell... I got knocked into a display case and my wrist got kind of... hurt. I was in the school store when that kid—"Tina's eyes started to well up. "I just can't believe it. I can't believe it."  
  
"Can't believe what?" Zachary asked gently.  
  
"Didn't you hear? Madison, she—she died. Back at the school. They said she didn't even make it to the hospital. She was dead by the time they got there." Tina's voice wavered with emotion. "He killed her. That boy killed her."  
  
Behind her, Corrine thought she heard a sharp intake of breath from Josie and when she turned, the redhead was looking even more drawn, her lower lip trembling violently, but still Corrine had no chance to respond because Tina drew her attention again. "I think your friend was in the school store when it happened—that Lucas guy." She said quietly. "I saw him buying a bag of chips just before—just before it happened."  
  
"Lucas?" Corrine demanded. "You saw Lucas in the store? Is he here now?"  
  
"I—I don't know. I don't remember much after the paramedics got there. I know he was in there with me and a few others for at least twenty minutes... I saw him just after, I think... But I don't remember if he was hurt or not."  
  
"How can you not remember if he was hurt?!" Corrine almost shouted, near tears, startling Tina. "Can't you tell us anything else?"  
  
Now Tina's eyes quivered with unreleased tears. "No! I can't! I'm sorry, Corrine, I don't remember anything else. After I found out Madison had died, well I all I wanted to do was get out of there!"  
  
"Corrine—"Zachary laid a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "Corrine, it's OK. We'll find someone else to ask. We'll find Lucas, if he's here. Someone else ought to have seen him."  
  
Corrine, breathing heavily, slowly adjusted her temper, coming to her senses. Tina looked scared and Corrine knew that she was in just as much pain as herself, perhaps more because she knew her friend was dead. Suddenly feeling guilty, Corrine averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, Tina. I didn't mean—"She paused, then, "I've got to go. Thank you, really, thanks." She stalked off. Zachary – after giving Tina a reassuring look, followed with Josie in tow.  
  
"Corrine, you're going to have to accept that everyone's just as much in the dark as we are right now. You'll find out things soon enough, you just have to give them time, Corrine—"  
  
"I don't want to give them time!" Corrine said fiercely, turning to her teacher. "I just want to find out if my friends are even alive!"  
  
Zachary sighed, looking over her head, and recognition emerged in his eyes. "I think I see some more students."  
  
Corrine turned and indeed there were three more teenagers, clad in Blake Holsey High uniforms, sitting in chairs or on the floor near the soda machines. Corrine recognized two of them, a senior named Shelley Erickson, and a fellow junior, David—Dave something. The other girl, who looked a bit like Shelley, looked to be a freshman, and was sitting on the floor. Corrine, Josie and Zachary picked their way over to them and Corrine addressed the others with a nod before turning to Shelley. Shelley was a nice person, in Corrine's experience. The two of them had Music Theory together, and Shelley shared her notes if Corrine ever had to miss class. She knew who Corrine's friends were, and possibly had seen one of them.  
  
"Corrine." Shelley called out to the girl as she got nearer. When Corrine was close, Shelley smiled bitterly. "I knew I should have gone to lunch off campus today—Oh God, that was terrible... What am I doing, joking in a time like this?" She caressed her forehead with one hand, a guilty look on her face.  
  
"It's OK." Corrine told her. "No one's going to blame you for it. What are you here for anyway?"  
  
"My brother, Harry." David spoke up, and Corrine couldn't help but notice the blood that seeped through the cloth he held to his arm. David looked up at Corrine and Zachary with big, blue eyes. "He got shot, in the cafeteria. Chris shot him when he—when he tried to take the gun away."  
  
"I'm so sorry." Corrine said, then remembered that Harold Voorhies, David's brother, was a senior who had been dating Shelley for a few months. The freshman leaning against the pop machine was Shelley's little sister, if her memory served correctly. "I hope Harry's OK."  
  
"He will be." David half-smiled. "The doctors said he would be. I believe them."  
  
Shelley looked at David sympathetically, seeming to not share her friend's sense of hope. "Corrine, it's terrible, what's happened, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes." Corrine said impatiently, "Everything's a mess. But I need to know, Shelley, David, any of you guys, you haven't seen Lucas, Marshall, or Vaughn Pearson, have you?"  
  
A blank look slipped onto Shelley's face. "Oh Corrine, Josie... You don't know..."  
  
Corrine's heart sank, fearing the worst. "Know what? What happened, Shelley?"  
  
"We saw Vaughn Pearson here earlier, just after we arrived with Harry—"  
  
"Is he OK?" Josie said quickly, stepping forward.  
  
"Yes—or at least I think he was. He had a lot of blood on him... but he was walking, so I don't think any of it was his. Oh, God, Corrine, Marshall got shot. I saw it in the cafeteria. Chris killed that Madison girl, and then he tried to kill Vaughn but Marshall jumped in and got shot instead. I don't know why he did, Corrine, but he stood up to Chris. Both Vaughn and Marshall did... and look where it got them."  
  
Corrine could almost feel her legs giving way beneath her but she steadied herself and ignored the urge to throw up. "Marshall got shot" ... "He had a lot of blood on him" ... It was Marshall's blood that Vaughn had on him... "Look where it got them..." Behind her, she could hear Josie quietly sobbing and beside her, Zachary had a hand on his mouth and had closed his eyes tightly.  
  
"Shelley, do you—Do you know where they took him?" Corrine choked. "Where they took Marshall?"  
  
"Um, I don't know—"  
  
"It was down that hallway." Shelley's sister spoke up, glancing up from her spot on the floor and pointing to her right. "That's where the trauma rooms are. That's where they took Harry."  
  
"Th—Thank you." Corrine began to walk, purposefully down the hall the girl had pointed to, glancing in random rooms as she passed and slowly picking up her pace.  
  
"Corrine!" Zachary called after her. "Corrine, you're probably not allowed to go down there. Will you please—"Zachary sighed resignedly and followed at a reluctant pace.  
  
Corrine turned a corner and almost collided with a doctor wheeling an elderly patient into the elevators. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she spun around and started down the opposite hallway. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. Adjacent to one wall was a gurney, all alone, with a sheet covering the unmistakable form of a body.  
  
"No," she told herself quietly. "It's not him." She took a few hesitant steps forward, toward the still form. "It's not him." Still muttering to herself, Corrine came up to the body. She lifted her hand then quickly replaced it at her side. Squeezing her eyes shut to block the tears, she took a deep breath and lifted her hand again.  
  
"Corrine." Professor Zachary had appeared, standing in the spot she'd occupied moments before. He looked at his student's apprehensive face then at the gurney. Josie peered around from behind Zachary. For a brief moment no one spoke then Corrine pulled the sheet back in one fluid motion.  
  
It wasn't Marshall.  
  
Corrine stared at the pale, lifeless face of a woman in her forties, a woman who would never again in this lifetime stare back at her... and then she burst into tears. Zachary rushed forward and pulled the sobbing Corrine into a hug, shielding her from the sight of the body.  
  
"It's OK, Corrine. It's fine – you're fine." He told himself as much as the girl.  
  
"I—I thought it was him, Z'. I thought it was Marshall. I thought he might be—"  
  
"It's not him. It's alright, Corrine. It's not him."  
  
The two remained this way for some time, it seemed, before Corrine finally broke loose, and noticed Josie, who was looking into the trauma room just down the hall, staring with fear in her eyes. "Y—you guys?" Josie started. Corrine wasted no time in rushing forward and peering through the glass doors.  
  
She could hardly see past all the doctors and nurses in the room. There were plenty crowded around the table, working on the victim, passing vicious-looking instruments to each other. A puddle of blood was on the floor and all over the scrubs of the doctors... And over in the corner, brushed aside like a used napkin, was Vaughn Pearson, watching eagerly, trying to see past the doctors.  
  
"Vaughn!" Josie called out and the teenager turned abruptly, surprised to see who had called him.  
  
"Josie?" Slowly, he walked across the room, trying not to get in the way of the doctors, and pushed the doors to the trauma room open to join them. Immediately upon his exit, Josie pulled him into a huge hug and didn't let go for several minutes. Corrine, too, gave him a hug, which he eventually returned, still in shock. "Professor Z, Corrine... When did you guys get here? Is everything OK? Lucas—"  
  
"We don't know where Lucas is." Zachary told him. "We were looking for you."  
  
"Marshall, he—"Vaughn had a blank look on his face, even more blank than Josie's, if Corrine could believe it. He looked pale and drawn, and the front of his clothes, she noticed, was covered in blood. He meant to say that Chris was going after him, that Chris had meant to shoot him and Marshall had jumped in the way, had saved his life... but none of that came out because at that moment Vaughn was interrupted by the sound of one of the doctors shouting something inside the room. All four heads turned to the trauma room and all at once, they heard the dreadful sound of Marshall's monitor as the erratic beeping became a solid droning.  
  
"He's flat-lining!" The doctor in charge shouted. "We need to get this kid up to OR quickly." With incredible speed, the doctors and nurses stepped away from the gurney and unplugged the equipment their patient was hooked up to and Corrine and the others got their first look at Marshall.  
  
He looked terrible. There was blood all over, and his eyes were shut... He didn't look alive at all. In fact, Corrine decided, he looked less alive than the woman under the sheet she'd thought was Marshall earlier. Corrine gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. She and the others stepped aside as the trauma doors burst open and their friend was wheeled out. As he moved past, Corrine couldn't help but call out to her friend. "Marshall, oh my God, Marshall!"  
  
The doctors ignored her as they made their way toward the elevators. Corrine and Vaughn rushed forward, catching one last glimpse of their friend before the elevator doors slid shut and he disappeared. Flustered, and disbelieving what she had just seen, Corrine moved until her back was against the wall and leaned against it for support.  
  
"God, I can't believe all this is happening. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You all were supposed to be OK." Vaughn, having nothing to say that he felt would help, shrugged, looking just as lost as she felt. "Z, can't we go upstairs? See how he's doing?"  
  
"I don't know Corrine, I think we should wait down here... They'll tell us if anything happens, I'm sure—"  
  
"I want to go back to the school."  
  
The other three people in the hall looked at Josie, shocked expressions on their faces. The sentence had been spoken with eerily calm resolve, and none of them had been expected. "Josie, what are you talking about?" Vaughn asked her.  
  
"I said I want to go back to the school. I just... I can't be here anymore. I've got to get back."  
  
"You can't leave." Corrine snapped, perturbed. "Marshall needs you. How could you think of leaving him?"  
  
Josie opened her mouth then shut it quickly, at a loss for words. When she finally did speak, she did so quickly and quietly. "I just know there isn't anything we can do for him here. They're not going to let us in to see him anyway... I have something I want to check out, but I can't do it here. I—I just want to get out of here."  
  
"What do you think you're going to find at the school that'll help you?" Corrine retorted. "What's wrong with you today? This isn't the Josie I know, the Josie who would always stick up for her friends and be there for them when they needed her. You're running away!"  
  
"Corrine, Josie—"Zachary began helplessly, but he was cut off.  
  
"Shut up. Just, shut up! You don't have any idea, Corrine." Josie's cheeks were as red as her hair, flared with her temper. "If you had—I'm not even going to try to get through to you. I'm going back to the school." With that, Josie turned on her heels and stalked off down the hallway from which they'd come, to the ER.  
  
Mouth ajar, Corrine stared after her friend angrily. "Well, I'm not going to run." She said to herself. Zachary looked after the rapidly departing Josie then to Corrine.  
  
"Corrine, Vaughn—I—I should really go after her. I can't let her go off on her own and try to get back to the school. You two shouldn't even be here." Zachary began, flustered. "Can I trust the two of you to stay here and not leave the hospital?"  
  
The two teenagers nodded. "Sure, Z." Corrine said. "We'll be here."  
  
"Good. Look, I'm gonna go talk to Josie. I'll try to be back here in an hour or two to pick you guys up. Are you absolutely sure you're going to be OK?"  
  
"Yeah." Vaughn piped up. "We'll be fine. Go. Go find Josie." Corrine could tell that it pained Vaughn not to be able to go after the girl himself. She could sense his inner conflict between going after the girl he liked or staying with the boy who had saved his life, and she empathized with him. Josie was obviously hurt by something else that Corrine had not detected, and Corrine had probably made it worse by making her feel guilty.  
  
But still, Corrine thought, anger rising once more. She shouldn't abandon her friends like that... It's not like her. That's not Josie... Corrine watched silently as Zachary jogged off down the hall, pulling his jacket on as he ran, and then she turned to the elevators. She pressed a triangular button and waited for the doors to slide open. She and Vaughn climbed on the empty elevator and began to ascend while Corrine wondered for the umpteenth time where Lucas Randall was... 


	5. Part Four: Lucas

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Chapter Four: Lucas  
  
"Thanks, Z. I'll see you after school." Lucas called out to his favorite teacher as he shouldered his backpack and left the science room. It was the beginning of the lunch period and he had decided to stop by Professor Zachary's room to drop off his homework from that morning which he'd forgotten to do the previous night. Zachary had no qualms about turning in late papers. He always accepted them, happy enough with the assurance that the students were at least learning something – and there was no doubt in the teacher's mind that Lucas, one of his brightest students, was learning the material.  
  
Lucas heard Zachary return his greeting and then the teenager continued down the hall on his way toward the cafeteria where his friends were, no doubt, waiting for him.  
  
He stopped to get a drink at the fountain outside of the school store, where some students were milling around inside, buying snacks or pop or just hanging out. At the front counter, some older students Lucas didn't know very well were buying food. A senior girl whose name, if Lucas remembered correctly, was Hailey Eisen, turned, laughing at a joke her friend made. When she saw Lucas staring at her, she smiled back, giving him a small wave. Lucas grinned and waved back, but the moment was broken when a student dressed in black nearly ran into Lucas as he rounded the corner.  
  
"Hey, watch it—"Lucas said to the boy, whom he recognized as a fellow junior named Chris Ghent. Chris snarled something in reply and yanked open the door to the boy's bathroom to Lucas's left, disappearing inside.  
  
Muttering something about rude people, Lucas picked his backpack up once more and decided that he might get his lunch from the school store today... He grinned again as he walked past Hailey on his way to the deli counter. Deciding on a turkey sub sandwich and a Mountain Dew from the pop cooler, Lucas walked timidly up to the check-out counter and stood in line behind Hailey.  
  
It was Hailey that turned first and noticed him. She bit her lower lip idly as she leaned against the counter, staring at him. She was at least three inches taller than him, Lucas noticed, cursing his foul depth- perception. Having to look up at her just seemed to make the whole situation all that more awkward.  
  
"Hi—"Lucas began, gesturing to the candy she was purchasing. "Skittles, those are my favorite candy." He laughed nervously. God, I'm terrible at this!  
  
"Oh yeah?" Hailey smiled. "Mine too."  
  
"I'm, uh, Lucas." Lucas announced, holding out his hand. "Lucas Randall."  
  
"Hi Lucas, I'm Hailey—"  
  
"Eisen, Hailey Eisen right? I've, uh, seen you around..." Lucas scratched the back of his head idly.  
  
"Yeah. That's right." Hailey folded her arms, still smiling. You idiot, Lucas thought to himself. Way to strive for the hard-to-get look... Girls like mysterious guys, remember? As Lucas berated himself for his poor social skills in general, he looked out into the hall and thought he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Chris Ghent carrying a duffel bag and setting it down on the ground.  
  
Absently, he turned back to Hailey and was about to go for good ol' Round Two when the boy next to Hailey took her by the arm and turned to face Lucas. "Hey, Hailey, I'm gonna go head off to talk to the coach now. I'll see you after school, OK?" He gave Hailey a lingering kiss – on the lips – and backed away, still holding her hand.  
  
Hailey laughed, "OK, Nick. I'll see you at three. Bye." She loosened her grip and waved as her boyfriend dashed out the door, not even noticing Lucas was there. Slowly, Hailey turned back to Lucas who was now looking completely out of place.  
  
"Oh, wow, I didn't know that you... And I—Crap. I'm sorry, I gotta go. I'll, uh, I'll see you around then? In class? Or in the halls... Or wherever. Uh, bye..." Hailey began to protest but Lucas was already making his way across the room, pretending to study the magazine rack. He picked up the nearest one abruptly then smacked his forehead. Oh yeah, Seventeen Magazine makes you look real cool, Lucas. Way to go, Romeo... Not like it matters anyway, she clearly has a boyfriend.  
  
At that moment, Lucas's thoughts were interrupted by a loud stuttering blast outside in the hallway. He immediately ducked behind the magazine rack, covering his head as broken glass from the panes separating the store from the hall shattered down on top of him.  
  
He huddled this way behind the magazine rack like a frightened creature until the noise stopped. In the brief silence that ensued, Lucas pulled in ragged, shallow breaths, trying to calm his soaring nerves. Nearby he thought he heard people screaming, but he couldn't be sure. Realizing that he'd lost his glasses, Lucas couldn't even be sure of the ground underneath him anymore. His head was spinning with terror as he recognized the sound as gunfire.  
  
After a few stunned moments in which the world began to right itself and feeling returned to the teenager's hands and knees, Lucas dared to move from the position he was in, giving himself one quick push and leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. He laid his head against the wall's hard surface and rested a hand on his rapidly beating heart, as if it might help to calm him down some more.  
  
Tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, Lucas tried to maneuver his sights so he could see what was going on, where all the broken glass had come from, where all the screams were coming from... But he could see nothing. The magazine rack was in his way, and past that, a vending machine barred the way. He was reduced to the range of the blind, knowing only what he could sense with his own two ears... and he didn't like what he heard.  
  
Lucas pressed the palms of both his hands into his ears, trying to block out the screams. It should be easier to do, he thought to himself. The screams seem so far away... But I know that they're right here, right outside my range of vision...  
  
The noise of gunfire slowly diminished in the background and it took all of Lucas's willpower to convince himself that he wasn't just hearing things, that the sound really was retreating into the background. Taking a deep breath, Lucas removed his palms and began to look around for his missing glasses, being near blind without them.  
  
He fumbled over the broken glass, crawling on his hands and knees across the floor, fingers searching carefully. When he felt something sharp pierce his palm he hissed and pulled his hand close to himself. He couldn't see well, but he did see the trickle of blood coming from the cut on his palm, and he cursed lightly, pulling his sleeves over the heels of his hands as he continued his search.  
  
Finally his fingers touched something familiar. He pulled his glasses on, adjusting them until they seemed fitting enough, and groaned immediately upon realizing that he'd broken one of the lenses. Oh well, he thought to himself. At least now you can see a little better.  
  
Lucas examined the cut on his hand and winced. He squeezed his hand shut to stop the bleeding and when it didn't stop, he looked around for the nearest piece of cloth, band-aids, anything. His eyes rested on a tattered piece of his blue jeans that was hanging loose and he gripped the pant leg as best as he could while pulling with his good hand. After a few quick tugs, he jerked loose a strip of blue jean and tied it around his palm.  
  
There, Lucas thought to himself. That ought to do for now. He turned around, still engaged in a ready-to-spring squatting position, and looked under the magazine rack toward the front of the store, almost crying out loud when he witnessed all the blood that had been spilled. At least three people that Lucas could see were lying out in the open, bleeding openly on the floor, one of them – he noticed with a horrified gasp – was Hailey Eisen.  
  
The blonde girl lay in front of the check-out counter, hands at her sides, blood pouring from a wound in her thigh. Lucas couldn't tell whether or not she was breathing. On the other side of the counter, Lucas could see the store clerk, a man in his sixties named Bert that had worked there for over twenty years. Seeing him now, lying motionless on the ground, a puddle forming around his injured head, Lucas knew instantly that Bert was dead, and that he wouldn't be working even one more day at Blake Holsey High...  
  
All this, in less than fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. A lousy quarter of an hour to change someone's life forever... or to take it.  
  
Lucas wanted to run, he wanted to bolt for the nearest door, regardless of the danger, and run as far away from Blake Holsey High school as he possibly could, but he knew that would be foolish. He was about to settle for hiding in the corner until it was all over when he thought he saw Hailey move...  
  
It was only a slight move, just a shift of the arm, but when he heard her groan lightly, Lucas knew that she was very much alive... and very much in need of help.  
  
He looked across the room at some other students he hadn't noticed before, hiding along the walls like Lucas was doing, and he appealed to them to help him get to Hailey, but they just shook their heads. They were too scared, Lucas realized. He was too... but he wouldn't just sit there and watch as someone he knew bled to death on the floor, alone.  
  
Mustering his courage, Lucas moved into a sprinting position, hesitating just a moment before he dashed out into the open space and kneeled by Hailey. Without wasting another beat, he grabbed her under the arms and dragged her back into the space he'd been hiding before, trying to avoid the broken glass. Kicking random shards out of the way, Lucas lay Hailey down gently and leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. Glancing back at where he'd come from, Lucas noticed first the faces of the shocked students who couldn't believe the actions of this usually shy, timid junior, before he noticed the trail of blood across the hardwood floors that had come from Hailey.  
  
The echo of gunfire in the background warned Lucas that he had taken a big chance just then, for someone he hardly knew, but it was over now... And Hailey still needed his help. He looked down at her pale, sweaty face and slowly moved his hand to her neck to determine the strength of her pulse. He had barely put two fingers in place when Hailey woke with a jerk, startling the already jumpy Lucas. She looked up at him with a panicky expression, obviously confused and in grave pain.  
  
"Lu—Lucas?" She gasped between breaths. "What's going on? What happened?"  
  
"Shh, just lie still." Lucas instructed in a low voice. "I'm taking care of you, but you have to be quiet." He threw an involuntary glance toward the door, which Hailey followed, becoming more frightened.  
  
"Lucas, it hurts." She groaned, tears streaming freely down her flushed cheeks. "I want to know what's going on, please, I don't want to be here."  
  
"I'm sorry." Lucas said sincerely. "I don't know what's happening, and I don't want to be here either... But I'll try to help you the best I can. Everything'll be OK, Hailey. It'll be alright." Lucas couldn't tell whether he was telling her that more for her benefit, or his own, but he figured it couldn't hurt to allow comfort for both sides, given the current situation they were in, and the lack of answers they were receiving.  
  
Lucas looked to the girl's wound, almost throwing up at the sight of the blood that seemed like it wouldn't stop pumping.  
  
What could I use to stop it? He asked himself frantically. I highly doubt strips of blue jean would be effective here...  
  
Lucas spotted a Blake Holsey High sweatshirt on a rack and scurried over to snatch one. Crawling back over to Hailey he crumpled the sweatshirt and pushed it gently onto her thigh. Hailey bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain, but she couldn't stop the tears, or the clenched fists.  
  
God, why can't I help her? He asked himself frantically. I need to get to a phone, to call for help... But shouldn't it already be on its way? There are plenty of phones in the cafeteria where everyone—Lucas stopped mid-thought as a thought struck him head-on.  
  
The cafeteria. Where everyone ate lunch. Where Lucas's friends ate lunch. Every day.  
  
"Oh, God." He muttered to himself.  
  
"What is it?" Hailey asked him fearfully. "Is it that bad? Oh God, please tell me it isn't—"  
  
"Oh, NO—no, you'll be fine." Lucas grinned half-heartedly. "Trust me. I was just... I just realized that, my friends... they... they're out there somewhere. I really hope they're OK."  
  
"So is Nick." Hailey bit her lip. She seemed to have calmed down some, which Lucas thanked God for silently. She seemed more afraid now for her boyfriend than for herself. "Who do you think is doing it, Lucas?" She whispered quietly.  
  
"I don't know—"Lucas answered hesitantly, but no sooner had he said the words than the memory of Chris Ghent setting down the duffel bag in the hallway moments earlier hit him and he gasped. "Chris Ghent."  
  
"Who's that?" Hailey asked.  
  
"Uh, a junior. A guy in one of my classes. I saw him out in the hallway, just before—... I think he's the one who's doing this." But why? Lucas asked himself even as he spoke. Why would Chris – why would anyone – do such a horrible, hateful thing? He let the thought sink in no longer than a few moments. Same reason anyone does these things. Attention. Hate. Loneliness. Pain... This was his last resort.  
  
Lucas looked back down to Hailey, noticing that the blood was already soaking through the sweatshirt. Need something to stop it with, he thought to himself. "Wait here." He crawled back over to the clothes rack and found a lanyard meant to hold keys. He snatched one and went back to Hailey, carefully removing the sweat shirt. Hailey's eyes were as wide as saucers when she saw the state of her wound, but she remained silent, an agreeable patient, Lucas thought appreciatively.  
  
He moved to wrap the lanyard around her upper thigh but stopped when he moved close and, blushing furiously, handed it to Hailey. She took it wordlessly and wrapped it around her thigh, as high as she could go above the gunshot wound, and Lucas took over, tightening it to act as a tourniquet. When he was finished, he found another sweatshirt and covered her legs with it.  
  
Sitting back on his knees, the two teenagers sat face to face in the dimly lit store. The sudden realization hit them both at the same time. "The shooting's stopped." Lucas muttered aloud. He looked over across the room. Some other students were looking hopeful, perhaps wanting to move, wanting to call for help, but no one dared to do so first. There was coarse silence.  
  
"Someone should call for help – just in case." Lucas said to Hailey. "I where there's a phone. They always have one behind the counter—"  
  
"No." Hailey said suddenly. "Don't go out there, Lucas. Just stay here, please. I don't want to see you get hurt." Her voice was small, afraid. She reached out and snatched Lucas's hand, pulling it close to her. "Stay with me."  
  
Lucas stared at her steadily. "OK." He said after a moment, moving to sit next to her. He helped her sit up and lean against the wall and still held her hand on her lap, watching her silently as she shut her eyes, probably thinking of home, and breathed in and out slowly. There was a calm, almost serene expression on the girl's face, but it couldn't hide the fear that pervaded it. Lucas wondered how he must look himself.  
  
As they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, Lucas wondered if his friends were OK. He'd been trying not to think about them since the thought had occurred. It was just too much to have to worry about and worry about saving Hailey at the same time. He feared for his friends. Josie, Marshall, Corrine, Vaughn, Professor Zachary... were they all OK? It was an agonizing thought and the best he could do given the predicament, was to just convince himself that they were all OK, and concentrate on the people around him first.  
  
It was then that he heard the sound of shouting in the hallways again. Oh, God please say it's not happening again... he thought. It had been about fifteen minutes since the shooting had stopped, and no one in the store had heard a word since from the rest of the school. They were cut off from the stem of knowledge and awareness, and it left them in the dark and terribly alone.  
  
The voices grew closer, voices Lucas thought he interpreted correctly as adult voices. Near to the store the voices died down and there was silence... then the crunch of glass. Someone had come into the room. Lucas held his breath, noticing that Hailey, her eyes now open, was doing the same. She held his hand tighter and started breathing quickly again. The crunching continued as whoever it was came closer and Lucas started to move, ready to run or tackle or block Hailey's body with his own if necessary, but then a man appeared suddenly, from behind the counter that had blocked their sight, a fully-uniformed police officer, his gun out and at the ready. He moved to aim the gun at them when he saw them, causing both teenagers to gasp in fright, but he soon lowered it, realizing they weren't a threat, and spoke to them.  
  
"Are you kids OK?"  
  
Lucas looked into the serious eyes of the officer and was unable to speak for a few moments but finally found his voice. "Y—yeah, I'm OK... but she isn't. She got shot in the leg, and she needs a doctor." The officer looked at her leg briefly, and Lucas thought he saw him wince then he called out to the rest of the room. "Anyone else in here need medical attention?"  
  
Several students answered and the officer called in the number on the radio pinned to his lapel. When he had finished, he spoke to the frightened kids, "Alright, you kids just stay in here. We have to clear the rest of the school, but the paramedics will be in here shortly. Just stay put, and don't leave this room until they come, OK?" Several students nodded; very few spoke aloud.  
  
The officer disappeared out into the hall and Lucas turned back to Hailey. "See? I told you it'd be alright. The paramedics'll be here soon. They'll take you to the hospital, fix you right up..." And I can go look for my friends, Lucas thought, suddenly not sure if he was ready to see what he would find.  
  
They didn't have to wait long. Less than five minutes later, three paramedics came into the room, checking on the victims, deciding which ones were the most injured. A woman in her forties came over to check on Hailey and Lucas. "Did you put this tourniquet on her?" She asked Lucas sternly.  
  
Lucas, suddenly afraid he'd done something wrong, answered timidly, "Uh, yeah. I did. Is that OK? I didn't know if—"  
  
"No, no son, you did well. You stopped the bleeding. You probably saved her life." She looked over her shoulder. "Thompson, this one goes next, after the boy." The student closest to the door had been shot several times. Lucas couldn't remember his name, but he knew the senior's younger brother, David Voorhies, from some of his classes. They took him first, David too, and two other girls followed. As other students cleared out of the room, huddling in groups and looking frightened, and a stretcher was brought in to put Hailey on and take her away, Lucas finally stood up and was able to survey the whole room.  
  
It looked like an explosion had happened. The glass wall separating it from the hallway had completely shattered. Glass shards covered almost every inch of the floor. There was blood all over, among other materials. Behind the counter, the third paramedic was checking on Bert, the cashier. "This one's dead." She called to the others. "One GSW to the head. He'll have to wait until later."  
  
While he stood there, shocked and stricken senseless, the paramedics began to take Hailey out of the room. She called out to Lucas as they passed, "Lucas! Lucas!" He turned to her, snapping out of his trance. "Aren't you going to come with me?" She asked quietly.  
  
Lucas was set aback. He hadn't planned on going to the hospital. He was going to look for his friends. Despite the disappointed look on Hailey's face, he began, "Actually, I—"  
  
The younger female paramedic, a kind looking black woman, took Lucas's hand and inspected the cut on his palm. "This may require some stitches. You should come with us. You can ride with your friend in the ambulance, if you want."  
  
Lucas looked down at his palm, then back to Hailey's distressed, hopeful face and relented. "OK, I'll come with you."  
  
As he walked with her out the door to the waiting ambulance, Hailey addressed him quietly. "Thank you, Lucas. I don't think I could do this alone."  
  
Lucas grinned, catching a few futile glances down the crowded hall before he exited. "No problem." He told her. "I told you I'd stay with you."  
  
It was nearly forty-five minutes later before Lucas was left on his own. He rode with Hailey to the hospital and waited while they took care of her in the emergency room. A nurse took care of his hand not long after he arrived, suturing it in a nearby room. Four stitches and a small amount of medical tape later and Lucas found himself in the waiting room. He saw other students he knew there, but the whole scene was all so congested and so utterly jumbled that he felt easily lost in the fray, and he still hadn't seen any of his friends...  
  
When Hailey finally emerged through the double doors, carried toward the elevators on a stretcher, Lucas followed alongside her. "Lucas!" She called out. "I can't thank you enough for staying here with me all this time... You didn't have to do that."  
  
Lucas smiled warmly. "I wanted to."  
  
Hailey returned the gesture weakly. "They're taking me up to surgery now. They said I'll be just fine; they said that you helped." She reached out to take his hand again, clasping it lightly. "I hope all your friends are OK. Thank you for everything. You don't know how grateful I am—"  
  
"Hailey!" A male voice yelled from the end of the hall. Lucas turned around to see Nick, her boyfriend, running toward them. He caught up with the stretcher just before it got on the elevator. "Hailey, oh my God, I didn't know if you were alive. I didn't know if—Oh God, they wouldn't let us leave the school and they wouldn't tell us anything and I didn't know if you were hurt. I'm sorry I would have been here sooner, if I had known." Tears brimmed at the corner of his eyes.  
  
"It's OK, Nicky." Hailey smiled. "I had Lucas there to help me. He saved my life. And I haven't thanked him yet for it."  
  
Nick turned to face the shorter teen and gave him a huge hug, surprising Lucas. "Thank you for helping her." He said, pulling away. "I was so worried about her. Thanks, Lucas."  
  
Lucas felt himself blushing again. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." He watched as the doctors took Hailey onto the elevator and Nick followed. Hailey gave him one final smile and wave before the doors closed and Lucas found himself standing alone in the hallway.  
  
Wondering just what exactly his next move should be, he was decided he ought to head to the phones to call his parents and was surprised at who he met there.  
  
"Corrine?"  
  
The teenage girl turned around abruptly, hanging up the phone she'd been holding. "Lucas!" She ran up to him and threw her arms around him. "Lucas, thank God you're here. We've been looking all over for you. We didn't know where you were or what had happened to you, and we were afraid you'd— God, I'm so glad you're OK."  
  
"Who's 'we'? And what are you doing here, anyway?" Lucas asked, suddenly fearing the worst. "Nothing's happened, has it, Corrine?" The teen didn't answer; Lucas's trepidation and anxiety deepened. "Corrine?"  
  
"You don't know yet." She said with a quiet sigh. She looked to the ground briefly before returning her friend's penetrating gaze. "It's Marshall." 


	6. Part Five: Josie

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Chapter Five: Josie  
  
They just don't understand, Josie thought to herself as she dashed toward the double doors to the crowded ER, pushing past those in the waiting room as she went. They don't get it. They weren't there, or else they would understand...  
  
Josie's hands found the door and she pushed it open violently, finally reaching the outside where she exhaled deeply a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She inhaled of the fresh summer air, letting the cleansing oxygen fill her lungs. She almost felt dizzy with relief from being free from the stifling atmosphere inside Mercy Hospital. Something there was bothering her... she couldn't yet put a name to it, but she knew it was there, and when Josie had a feeling she knew there had to be something irregular behind it. It was always the same.  
  
Something was going on. And Josie would figure out what it is.  
  
She walked swiftly forward, toward the busy road nearby the ambulance bay. She walked close to the edge of the sidewalk and stuck out her thumb awkwardly, hoping to flag down a taxi. Her mind was clouded with indistinguishable visions, emotions she couldn't put a name or motive to... but she was confident she would get to the bottom of it all... if she could just get a cab.  
  
"Are you thinking of hitchhiking all the way home?" A voice asked behind her. Reluctantly Josie turned her head in a slight gesture to see Professor Zachary standing by her, arms folded, a slightly bemused look on his face.  
  
"Actually, I was hoping to hail a cab." Josie answered soberly.  
  
"It might be kind of hard to convince one to take you all the way back to Blake Holsey without any cab fare."  
  
"I have five bucks."  
  
"Well, five bucks... That *might* get you as far as that stoplight down there, in this traffic."  
  
Josie sighed and turned to face her teacher after a minute. "I'm not going back inside of that hospital, Z'. I can't."  
  
"Alright. I won't make you." Zachary answered simply.  
  
"You—what?" Josie asked, surprised.  
  
"I won't make you do anything you really don't want to do, Josie. And I won't try to convince you right now, if it'll make you feel better. In fact, I'll take you back to the school myself, if you want."  
  
"But—But what about Corrine and Vaughn, Marshall—?"  
  
"They can handle themselves for a few hours." Zachary answered. "Besides, there are some teachers there right now, and more are bound to arrive later. They'll be fine." He paused. "It's you I'm worried about."  
  
"I'm fine Professor Z'. I don't need anyone's 'help.' I just want to get back to the school." Josie's vision wandered again, this time to some indiscriminate point. "I have a theory."  
  
"A theory." Zachary cocked his head slightly. "Odd time for speculation and conjecture."  
  
"Can we just go now?" Josie asked.  
  
Zachary nodded slowly, reassuringly. "Sure."  
  
The ride home was entrenched in silence. Josie was thankful Zachary didn't try to coax anything out of her. Although a thousand questions were running through her head, she really wasn't willing to speak any of them aloud. When they got back, they had to pass by the police officers standing outside the building, keeping watch. Most of the officers inside had gone, as well as all the paramedics and firefighters. The pair was sent around to the side entrance, as the main one was taped off from the public.  
  
Once inside the building, Josie stood still, reflecting on her surroundings, staring off down the hall absently where so much pain had been inflicted on people she knew and cared about just a few hours earlier.  
  
Zachary was talking to one of the police officers, about what, Josie didn't know. She wasn't even trying to listen in. It just didn't seem important.  
  
He joined her, standing by her side, but instead of focusing on his surroundings, oddly calm for that time of day as he was well familiar, he focused on the petite redhead who seemed to be lapsing back into her silent musings.  
  
"The officers said we can leave the campus as we like now. Some students and teachers headed over there to... check on friends and family members... Most are in their dorms... Students are instructed to stay in the dormitory wing for the rest of the evening, until they decide it's OK to be walking around. I don't think they want any of you to have to see— Well, you understand, don't you, Josie?"  
  
"Oh— sure, yeah. I'm kind of tired anyway. I was thinking about going up to the room, maybe taking a nap. I'm really tired." Josie rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "Got a few things to mull over, y'know?"  
  
Zachary looked skeptical, but he nodded reluctantly. "Alright, but you promise you'll stay in your room like they asked?"  
  
"Of course, Z'." Josie forced a grin.  
  
"OK then, I'll come and check on you again in an hour or so, see if you need anything, OK?" Josie nodded as she turned to walk away. "Oh and Josie—"The redhead turned in mid-step waiting for her teacher to continue. "Take it easy, Josie."  
  
"Sure thing." Josie continued on her way, past the closed doors of the classrooms that had been abandoned. The entire atmosphere of the school was one of eerie calm and dead silence and Josie couldn't help but feel intimidated. She turned a corner, her breath coming in shorter and more franticly, and finally dashed the last few yards of the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, arriving at her corridor and finally slowing her pace. She saw students in their rooms as she passed, some with friends and some alone.  
  
Josie didn't even think about finding a friend to be with her at the time. She just wanted to be alone. Besides, all her friends were at the hospital anyway, and after what she had done, she doubted any of them would want to be with her right now, especially Corrine.  
  
Don't think about that right now, Josie thought to herself. You promised yourself you wouldn't.  
  
Josie found her room near the end of the hall and went inside, walking straight to her dresser. She opened it up, grabbed some fresh clothes, and quickly changed and pulled her hair into an untidy ponytail. As she tugged the ponytail holder into place, she glanced up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, stopping for a moment out of shock.  
  
She looked terrible. Her face was drawn, her eyes were bloodshot and there was a pale tint to her cheeks that were usually so pink and vibrant with life. What's wrong with me? She wondered. No wonder my friends were worried about me...  
  
But there was no time to think about that, Josie decided. There was something she needed to check out. She closed the door to her dorm quietly and took a back stairwell down to the second floor where the library was.  
  
No one was in the second floor corridor, as she had guessed, but nonetheless she walked briskly, her footsteps echoing along the empty passageway, and quietly slipped through the door to the Blake Holsey High media center, allowing the door to shut mutely behind her.  
  
She walked over to the row of computers that were meant for student use and logged into one, opening up the Google search engine. She stared tentatively at the screen for a few seconds, glanced over her shoulder once, then back at the screen, fingers poised over the keyboard. Decisively she typed in the word "insanity" and pressed enter.  
  
A list of a couple thousand websites appeared on her screen and Josie sighed wearily. This is going to take a while... She looked toward the still- closed door to the library one more time before settling into her chair and getting to work.  
  
It was over an hour and a half before Josie would be found and she wasn't the least bit surprised to see that it was Professor Zachary that discovered her, a look of relief washing over his face as he hurried across the library to where Josie was pacing behind a table.  
  
"Josie, there you are. I've been looking all over the school for you. I—"Zachary stopped mid-sentence as he took in all the papers scattered about, on the table, on the floor, in Josie's hands. A couple books had been removed from their places and were strewn about the mess, lying open and unheeded. Josie was pacing still, a look in her eyes that Zachary couldn't quite define. There was determination there, and satisfaction too, and a little bit of something else, some unresolved emotion...  
  
Josie turned to look at her teacher for only the briefest of moments before continuing to mess around with the papers in her hands. "Sorry, Z'. I was going to tell you where I was going but I knew if I had then you wouldn't have let me go." She spoke with quick, hurried tones, the words spilling out of her.  
  
"Well of course I wouldn't have... Josie, I told you, you weren't supposed to leave the room. I looked all over this school for almost an hour. I was worried that you might have— Josie what are all these papers for anyway?"  
  
"I did a little research, Z'. Looked up 'insanity', and 'mental diseases' and I found out a few things! In most cases, insanity is caused by mental disorders such as schizophrenia, but not always. Extremely traumatic experiences can be another cause for insanity, but I couldn't think of how that would work with my theory, then I found out that some drugs can cause temporary insanity, so I looked up a few—"  
  
"Josie, what is this all about?" Zachary asked her impatiently. He was becoming even more bothered by his pupil's agitated tone and wanted to get to the bottom of what exactly was bothering her.  
  
Josie brushed off his concern and thrust the papers at her teacher. "Some of those drugs would NOT be too hard to get your hands on, Professor. It's entirely possible that we have something like that in the school that you don't know about or if not there, then Pearadyne Labs is bound to have access to these drugs. Z', what if Chris Ghent was slipped some of these drugs and, and—"  
  
"And what, Josie?" Zachary gave her a concerned look. "Why would Pearadyne Labs, would Victor Pearson want to do that when he could put his son in danger?"  
  
"I haven't figured that out yet. Maybe he didn't know what it would do, maybe he wanted the drugs for something else... Look the point is that there could be an explanation for this, and I'm going to find it, Z'. I'm going to find out what went wrong."  
  
Zachary stared at the papers in his hands for a few minutes then set them down, sighing sadly. "Josie, I'm very worried about you today."  
  
"What do you mean, Z'?" Josie began to gather her collection of papers in one pile and close the text books lying on the table. She hardly took any notice of her teacher.  
  
"All ... All this, quite frankly. This is not how most people tend to deal with tragedy and I'm afraid you're making things harder on yourself by not accepting that this was a tragic incident that you have to learn to deal with."  
  
Josie finally acknowledged her teacher by looking up at him. "I know what this is." She said with conviction. "There's just one more thing I have to look at before I can be sure. One more person I need to talk to—"  
  
"And then what, Josie?" Zachary stared at the redhead. "And then what?"  
  
Josie opened her mouth to speak then closed it. Finally she answered quietly, "I don't know. I—I guess I haven't really gotten to that part yet. But I suppose I can cross that bridge when I get there. For right now, I have to go and find someone—"  
  
"No one will be able to explain this the way you want them to, Josie. They won't see things your way, no matter how much you think they will."  
  
"You don't know that, Z'. There's got to be someone in this school who knows what's really going on, I'm sure of it. Weird things happen all the time at Blake Holsey High, why should this time be any different?"  
  
Zachary caught her arm as she ran past him with the papers in her hands. "Josie, please. Just listen to me for a minute. You've got to understand something." His eyes met with her moist ones and he held the gaze. "You think that this is something that can be explained through the internet or through a text book but it's NOT, Josie! Not everything has a perfectly logical explanation as to why it occurred. Some things... Some things just happen, and science can't explain them, no matter how much one person really wants it to!"  
  
Neither of them spoke for a few prolonged moments of silence before Zachary released Josie's arm and she stood still for a moment, tears sliding down her cheeks, unheeded. Finally she looked back at her teacher. "No. You're wrong, Z'. Haven't you ever felt you were right about one thing and knew that it was true no matter how many people told you you were wrong? I know I'm right about this, Z', and I'm going to prove it to you."  
  
With that the redhead turned and rushed out of the library, still clutching her stack of papers. Zachary tried to run after, "Josie! WAIT!" But the teenager was already gone by the time he reached the hall, and he had no idea which way she'd turned. He was too late.  
  
Just keep looking, Josie told herself upon reaching another dead end. Just keep looking for him and you'll find him eventually. He's always here. He lives here. It's not like he needs another job somewhere else. He's got to be here...  
  
As Josie told herself this, she turned another corridor and descended down another flight of stairs. She was in the basement now, and a whole new maze of hallways confronted her. She hadn't come down here many times before, but she had an idea where to start.  
  
She jogged down the hallway, stack of papers in hand, and noticed at the end of the hall, exactly what she'd been looking for: the janitor's office. She dashed up to the door, turning to enter... and ran into something big, falling down on the ground, the papers scattering everywhere. Startled, Josie didn't react at first, then a hand was extended to her and she looked up to see the janitor himself, looking down at her. She took his hand and righted herself, brushing herself off before facing him.  
  
The janitor looked down skeptically at the papers now all over the floor outside his office. "You know, you're not really making my job any easier." He joked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Sorry..." Josie croaked, blinking as if she didn't realize where she was anymore. Tears she feared she could not hold back anymore were threatening to fall from her wide eyes.  
  
"I don't get a lot of students down here," He said idly. "Are you OK?"  
  
"No." Josie shook her head. "No, I think I'm lost... and I'm afraid no one will be able to find me and I need your help."  
  
The janitor averted his gaze for a moment. "I'll do what I can."  
  
"You know." Josie said in an accusatory voice. "You know what's going on here – you always know what's going on. I don't know how you know but you do." The janitor remained impassive. "I've never pushed you for answers before but this time it's different. I want to know what's going on in our school. I want to know why this had to happen!"  
  
The janitor was stoic. "I can't tell you why this happened."  
  
"But WHY?! WHY can't you tell me what happened? What is your big secret anyway?"  
  
"No, you don't understand." The janitor shifted, setting his mop down next to him and looking at her steadily. "I can't tell you because I can't give you one reason why this happened."  
  
"What do you mean?" Josie was stricken.  
  
The janitor sighed. "I don't know why this happened, but it didn't have anything to do with this school, Josie. It had to do with people, one extremely troubled person in particular. He acted completely of his own volition today."  
  
"No. No, I don't believe it." Josie said. "I can't accept that. Strange things are always happening at Blake Holsey. Black Hole High, that's why we call it that – and don't pretend like you don't know that because you've been there for every weird thing that's happened. You knew what was really going on then and you know what's really going on now. You just refuse to tell me!" Josie could feel the tears streaming down her face now. She couldn't hold them back anymore and she didn't want to.  
  
"I'm not lying to you, Josie. Christopher Ghent was not affected by the strange occurrences in this institution. He was not poisoned by outside forces or convinced by anyone but himself to take the actions he committed today." Josie was shaking her head. The janitor waited until he got her attention again. "Some things just happen, Josie. You have to learn to accept that."  
  
Professor Zachary's words came back to her then, hitting her hard. Josie couldn't take it anymore. "I still don't trust you. You've never given me any reason to."  
  
"I'm sorry, Josie." He said it with a calm, quiet voice and Josie instantly knew that it was sincere. Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore – she had to get out of there, she had to leave that place, that school, and just keep running—  
  
"I—I've got to go." Without any more words, the girl ran off back the way she'd come, no longer heeding anything, just searching for her safe place. She pushed open the doors to the stairwell, sobbing freely now, and dashed up them, leaving a very pensive janitor behind, staring after her sympathetically.  
  
Josie kept running until she reached the first floor where she was relieved to see a familiar face. "Josie!" Professor Zachary ran up to his sobbing student, who looked like she either wanted to keep running or collapse on the floor in grief. "Josie, what's the matter?" He pulled the girl into his arms, embracing her warmly. At first Josie tried to push away but gave up and cried into his shoulder, really letting herself go for the first time since the incident.  
  
"Oh God, Z. Why did this have to happen? Why did this happen here, to all of us? No one deserves to die. Not Marshall, not Madison, not even Chris Ghent. Why won't anyone tell me what happened here?"  
  
"Shh, it's alright, Josie. It'll be OK." Zachary comforted. "I don't know. Nobody knows. If I could explain it in words you'd understand I'd teach it to you, you know I would but I can't. No one can."  
  
It was several minutes before Josie could pull away, sniffling and rubbing her reddened cheeks with her sleeve. She had calmed down considerably, and held herself awkwardly as she stared off into space again. "I know." She finally admitted in a heavy voice. "I know there's no explanation. I just kept hoping that there would be; hoping to find something to explain it all... but there's no way to explain it. I just don't know if I can accept that yet." She sighed and Zachary allowed her to continue. "I should apologize to Corrine. And Vaughn. I didn't mean to run out on them... and on Marshall... But Corrine doesn't understand. She didn't see—"  
  
"See what, Josie?"  
  
Hesitantly, Josie began. "We were so scared when he heard those gunshots. We wanted to get out of the bathroom but we couldn't open a window so we ran into the farthest stall and locked ourselves in. We hid in there for almost twenty minutes. I thought I was holding Corrine's hand to make her feel safe but I think she was holding mine for the same reason.  
  
"We didn't move from that spot until the police came and opened the door and found us. We heard them before that but we were too scared to come out. We couldn't, not until someone proved to us that everything was OK. We were wondering where our friends were. We wanted to go find them, but they told us to go into this one room and they wouldn't tell us what happened. We were so confused, Z', and it made us even more scared and alone, and I tried to see if I could look into the cafeteria, if I could see Vaughn or Marshall or Lucas, but there were so many people... and so much blood.  
  
"Oh God, Corrine didn't see, I know she didn't because I looked at her and she was looking at the police officers, but then I looked back... and I saw Madison's body. She had been shot more than once and I couldn't tell how many times because there was so much blood... And her eyes... her eyes were still open, Z'. She was trying to see but she couldn't because he killed her and she'll never see anything again. She'll never have the chance to be rude to me anymore, or—or take Vaughn from me or do ANYTHING because she's dead. She's dead Z', and she'll never grow up and have children of her own, little mini-Madisons to turn into evil cheerleaders. She had her life taken away from her in such a short instant and it's not fair, Z'. She didn't deserve to die!"  
  
Zachary didn't respond, didn't say anything, so Josie continued. "And at the hospital I just kept thinking about how if Corrine had seen... if she had looked and seen Madison's body being covered with a sheet so she was really blind that she would understand why I was being such a bitch, but then I realized that I don't want her to have seen that. I would never wish that on my best friend; I only wish she'd understand."  
  
"Josie, she will understand. If you tell her, she'll understand. You have to have faith in your friends in a time of need, believe that they'll come through for you."  
  
"But what if she doesn't?" Josie sniffed.  
  
"She will. She's your best friend. You two are polar opposites but you've always been able to understand each other, and you've always been there to save each other."  
  
Josie looked back up to her teacher, nodding slowly. She looked toward the direction of the front hall then at the floor. Finally she met with her teacher's eyes once more. "Professor Z'?"  
  
"Yes, Josie?"  
  
"Can you take me back to the hospital now? I want—I want to see if Marshall's OK."  
  
Zachary smiled. "Of course I will." 


	7. Part Six: Vaughn

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Chapter Six: Vaughn  
  
It's amazing how incredibly thick people can be sometimes, Vaughn Pearson thought with stringent clarity as he sat in the waiting room chair. How incredibly thick I can be sometimes...  
  
It had been two and a half hours since they arrived at the hospital. Two and a half hours since the incident in the cafeteria where Madison had been executed in Vaughn's arms and Marshall had been shot.  
  
Vaughn had been sitting in the green and blue plush chair staring at the wall for the last hour, ever since they'd taken Marshall into surgery. He hadn't said much since, just sat and contemplated. Ten minutes ago it had suddenly occurred to him that three hours ago he was celebrating his success at getting into a prestigious college all on his own. His friends were congratulating him, feeling happy for him, patting him on the back... and now everyone was either in mourning or in shock... or dead.  
  
Ten minutes ago, it occurred to Vaughn that this isn't where he should be right now, on this day. Five minutes later he began to regret his self- pity. What had be been thinking? How could he think about people praising him when people were dead? What kind of a person was he that he couldn't realize that?  
  
Well, Vaughn, you're definitely your father's son, he thought bitterly. Victor Pearson wouldn't care about anyone either. He'd be calm and collected, assessing the situation and moving on without a moment's contemplation as to the feelings of those around him.  
  
When he thought about his father, Vaughn realized that he hadn't seen or heard from Victor Pearson yet, not since before the accident when Vaughn had called his dad on the phone to tell him the good news. Because, he had come to realize, there wasn't anyone else he wanted to tell more at that moment than his dad, who he desperately sought approval from in every aspect of his life. He wanted to prove to his dad that he too could be successful.  
  
"Well, that's good, son. I'm happy for you." He had told him and Vaughn beamed at his accomplishments, but then, "Now if only your other grades could match your undertakings in the area of sports, you might actually get into Harvard, or Yale, some place more appropriate." And with that, all his satisfaction, all his pride was slashed at once, and he found himself once again left wanting, needing.  
  
Victor Pearson wasn't there for his son then, and he wasn't there at the hospital now when Vaughn needed him most. Nobody would be there for Vaughn.  
  
And then he came to his most recent thought with a clatter of epiphanies. It hit him all of the sudden that he was thinking about himself again, that he was still wallowing in pity, all for himself, and he immediately felt shamed.  
  
Marshall Wheeler is in the other room dying because he took a bullet for you, Vaughn thought to himself. You would be dead right now if he hadn't jumped in to save your ass.  
  
How incredibly thick can you be?  
  
But why? Vaughn kept asking himself. Why had Marshall sacrificed himself for someone he hardly knew? For someone who, in all respects, he probably didn't even like very much? It didn't make sense to Vaughn, and he couldn't help but give in to the despair rising inside of him and allow the thought to cross his mind that he might never find out what Marshall did it for. Never know why he had saved Vaughn's life at the expense of his own.  
  
Lucas Randall seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Currently he sat across the room from Vaughn, staring at the clock on the wall that didn't seem to be moving slow enough for the teenager's liking. "God, what is taking so long?!" He growled, pulling himself out of the chair and stalking across the room to the single window. The two were the only ones in the room currently. Corrine Baxter had left earlier, mumbling something about having to get a hold of Marshall's family. She'd been gone for nearly twenty minutes.  
  
Vaughn continued staring, finding himself unable to be angry like Lucas was. He just couldn't. Lucas was seething, Vaughn knew, and why shouldn't he be? His best friend could die any minute and Lucas had absolutely no control over it. But Vaughn couldn't be mad at Chris Ghent, no matter how much he wanted to. Lucas would understand if he'd been there in the room with them... if he'd seen the abandoned, vacant expression Chris wore. No, Vaughn couldn't blame him. Chris had passed the point of no return emotionally; no one could have saved him. It was just... circumstance.  
  
Who, then, was to blame?  
  
Corrine reentered the room just then. Both boys turned to look at her quickly, involuntarily thinking she may be a doctor with news about their friend. Corrine seemed not to notice this. "I couldn't get a hold of Marshall's parents." She mumbled. "I called the house, no one was home... I left a message. I tried to call Grant too, but I remembered he didn't have a—didn't have a number yet... I don't know how to get a hold of him."  
  
Lucas, sensing the harried expression on his friend's face made to move across the room, but paused. Corrine, lost in her grief, was breaking down before their eyes. She tried to keep things together – for herself, for everyone else – she tried to put everything in order, but it was all futile. Her reality was falling apart and she couldn't fix it for once. "Oh God, you guys. Marshall has no family here for him, he doesn't have anyone. We're all he has right now! Don't you realize that? We're all he has!" Lucas, needed no further coaxing. He moved across the room quickly, giving his friend a quick hug and guiding her into a chair with his injured hand.  
  
The cut on his hand had been cleaned and stitched about an hour ago, much to Lucas's protest. He had wanted to be up in the OR waiting for Marshall to get out of surgery but the nurse insisted that he get bandaged up before he went anywhere. Lucas had finally complied and had his hand looked at before heading directly for the 3rd floor.  
  
Now he sat next to the silently weeping Corrine, wanting to put an arm around her shoulder but holding back, too angry to make any comforting gestures. "This isn't fair. This just isn't fair. Marshall never hurt anyone, why should he be the one to suffer? Chris Ghent deserved what he got." Lucas said menacingly. "He deserved to die."  
  
"Don't say that." Vaughn surprised himself with the sternness of his voice. When Lucas gave him a confused look, Vaughn continued, "You shouldn't say things like that." He reiterated quietly. "No one deserves to die. Not even Chris."  
  
"Are you kidding?! Some of our friends died today! You were right there, Madison died in your arms, Marshall got shot and you're saying that Chris didn't deserve to die?!"  
  
"Lucas—"Corrine began, wiping away her tears. "Lucas, settle down."  
  
"I can't, not when I'm hearing things like that. Why would you say something like that, Vaughn?" His look was challenging – Vaughn knew the look. He encountered it every day on the football field – steadfast opponents defying you directly took on that look. And Lucas had it now.  
  
But unlike on the field where Vaughn was in charge, here he felt cornered and alone. Although he knew Corrine mostly agreed with him, even she looked curious to know why Vaughn was standing up for Chris Ghent.  
  
Vaughn took a deep breath, feeling very sick. He could feel the tears threatening to fall from his eyes again, but choked them back. "Because... Chris Ghent didn't mean to shoot Marshall. He wasn't aiming for him... He was trying to shoot me. I was the one he wanted to kill... Marshall, he—he jumped in and pushed me out of the way.  
  
"It's all my fault." Vaughn choked. "I ignored Chris Ghent for the entire time we went to school together. I took advantage of a whole person and I hurt him, I hurt him so badly that he couldn't see any other way to deal with his problems than... than this. Marshall didn't deserve what he got, and neither did Chris. That bullet was meant for me. I'm the one to blame!" Vaughn's jaw trembled as he shouted the words, startling his two friends.  
  
No one spoke for a few minutes, and the stunned silence reverberated around the empty room. Finally Lucas sprung from his chair again and walked away. "I don't believe this." He muttered.  
  
"Lucas—"Corrine began again.  
  
"Get out." Lucas stared at Vaughn coldly.  
  
"What?" Vaughn looked up at him, disbelieving what he'd heard.  
  
"I said 'get out.' You don't deserve to be here now. It's your fault that Marshall could die. I don't want you here right now and Marshall probably doesn't either." He said coldly.  
  
"Lucas, you know that's not true!" Corrine defended. "Why are you acting like this?"  
  
"Because, I can't stand the sight of him right now. I just can't believe—God, this is unreal." Lucas said.  
  
"Lucas, you've got to believe me—I never meant for this to happen! If I could go back and change anything it would be me lying in there, not him! You've got to believe me!"  
  
But Lucas never got a chance to answer because at that moment, the door to the waiting room swung open and an older man in scrubs walked in, taking in the three teenagers before him. "Are you the friends of the shooting victim we brought in an hour ago, a... Marshall Wheeler?"  
  
"Yes, we are." Corrine stood up immediately and walked over to stand next to the surgeon. Vaughn noticed that there was dried blood covering his pant legs and sleeves and wondered despairingly if it was all Marshall's... But nothing was said, and the teens allowed the surgeon to continue.  
  
"I'm Dr. Corben. Were you by any chance able to contact a parent or another relative?" He asked dutifully.  
  
"No..." Corrine looked crestfallen. "I tried calling his parents. They live in Michigan though, and I couldn't get a hold of them... His brother lives in the area, but he's not available either."  
  
Dr. Corben sighed, looking very tired and worn. Vaughn guessed that he'd probably been very busy that afternoon, because of the shooting. He certainly looked like he could use a rest. "You really should have a relative, or at least an adult present to hear this. It's against regulations to dispense any information about a patient to non-relatives."  
  
"Couldn't you at least tell us how he is?" Corrine pleaded. "We can't wait any longer."  
  
The surgeon sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "I can't release the full details, but I will tell you that Marshall survived the surgery and he's upstairs in the ICU. He's still unconscious, but we're hopeful he'll pull through. We've done all we can, kids... and it's up to him now if your friend wants to wake up."  
  
"Oh thank God." Corrine said, relieved. Vaughn felt a heavy weight lifted off his chest, glad he was already sitting in a chair.  
  
Dr. Corben surveyed the three teens with empathy, and gave in. "If you want, I'll allow you to go visit Marshall in a few minutes, but only if you promise to follow the rules they tell you before you go into the room, and then only one at a time. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, we do. Thank you so much." Corrine said gratefully.  
  
"Yeah, thanks a lot." Lucas added sincerely, rubbing the back of his neck. "This means a lot to us."  
  
Dr. Corben smiled before making his way toward the door. "Glad I could help. You take care, kids. Call me if you need anything."  
  
He left, once again casting the room in awkward silence, which Corrine finally broke. "Which one of us should go first?"  
  
Before either boy could answer, Vaughn spoke for them. "One of you can go." He relented, looking abashed. "I'll just be downstairs and wait there..."  
  
"Vaughn, you don't have to—"  
  
"No, Corrine. It's OK. I'm OK." Vaughn cast a look at Lucas, who guiltily refused to meet his gaze, then quietly slipped from the room, for the second time that day feeling unheeded and unwanted.  
  
Vaughn glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it had been only half an hour since Dr. Corben had come to tell them about Marshall. It had seemed like a lot longer. Vaughn had decided to retire to the busy emergency room where he could effectively lose himself in the hustle. Secretly he suspected that he was there only to have an excuse not to be seen.  
  
As he sat he watched the patients in the waiting room and made mental observations of their behavior. He'd never done anything like this before – watched people so closely, followed their actions and attempted to characterize them. Sure he paid attention to some people. He was always trying to discern his father's movements, to define them and follow him... And he never failed to pay attention to Josie Trent... but this – watching complete strangers for so long that you actually feel like you might begin to know them – he was wholly unfamiliar with it.  
  
Maybe that's your problem, Vaughn thought. That's why Chris hated you. You never noticed him, just like you never notice anyone that you doesn't immediately concern you. You're trying to make up for a lifetime of ignoring people in one afternoon but it's too late to take it back, Vaughn. Your actions have already hurt someone you didn't want to see hurt.  
  
Vaughn was so lost in his observations that he didn't realize until he heard her voice at the front counter that Josie and Professor Zachary had reentered minutes earlier. He heard them ask for information about Marshall Wheeler from the call nurse and she answered something Vaughn didn't hear. As Zachary thanked the woman, Vaughn got up to meet them both.  
  
"Vaughn!" Josie rushed over and hugged him for the second time that day but this time he returned the gesture, silently thankful for her presence, so close to him... he almost didn't want to let go, but Josie and Zachary had to know about Marshall. He pulled away, looking at the redhead seriously and sighed.  
  
Josie's face grew fearful. "...Marshall."  
  
Minutes later the three of them found themselves in the ICU, waiting outside of Room 18B. Corrine was there waiting too, and she explained to the trio that there had still been no response from their friend. She'd gone in first to visit and had left twenty minutes ago. Lucas was still in the room, and had refused to leave his friend's bedside ever since.  
  
Vaughn had noted Corrine's demeanor toward Josie ever since her return, and vice versa. There was a tension between them that could be cut with a knife, but neither had mentioned it yet. Finally, when Zachary had gone to speak to the head ICU nurse, Josie had blurted out, "I'm sorry, Corrine. For everything I said – did – earlier. I was being stupid and afraid. You were right, and I apologize... I just didn't know how to accept this."  
  
"It's OK." Corrine answered sincerely. "I shouldn't have been such a bitch about it." Corrine comforted, sitting down next to Josie on the couch in the small waiting area. "I understand that you're in pain, so am I... We just deal in different ways... I've done some pretty unadmirable things today too."  
  
"It's so hard to believe, isn't it?" Josie asked. "I felt there had to be some kind of explanation. That someone was behind all this, some force at the school... It's so silly now that I think about it."  
  
"No, it's not silly." Corrine told her. "I thought the same thing for a while. The thought wouldn't go away the whole afternoon. 'What if this has something to do with the black hole', but I couldn't deal with that and trying to keep everything together at the same time. I was too obsessed with being in charge and holding everyone else together that I guess I kind of lost myself."  
  
Josie sighed, putting her head on Corrine's shoulder and staring at the wall. "How do we get to be such head cases?"  
  
Corrine smiled and leaned back in the chair. "I don't know, Josie."  
  
Vaughn smiled slightly at seeing the two friends make up, but his frown returned when he looked back at the room. He really wanted to go in... but would Lucas let him?  
  
His question was answered moments later when the door swung open and Lucas came out, looking tired but peaceful for once. He walked over to his friends, smiling at Professor Zachary and Josie, whom he had not yet seen that day. Finally he turned to Vaughn and looked him in the eye.  
  
"I'm sorry about earlier, Vaughn. I didn't mean what I said, about it being your fault. I know it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault, I was just too angry to accept that."  
  
"Thanks, but I still don't know if I can convince myself of that." Vaughn said softly.  
  
"Vaughn, you can't blame yourself for this." Professor Zachary said. "What happened today was a tragedy, but a blameless one none the less. You can't keep holding yourself responsible for something that was beyond your control. There's no way you could have known how every action of yours would affect another person."  
  
"Yeah, you're a great guy, Vaughn. You stood up to Chris, you tried to get him to stop, to save those people. What you did was heroic."  
  
Vaughn grinned ruefully. "So was what you did."  
  
Lucas blushed slightly, inadvertently looking at his injured hand. "Yeah well... You should go in there now and see Marshall. He's not awake yet, but I think he knows we're there. I bet he'd like to see you."  
  
"Thanks." Vaughn looked at each of his friends briefly before entering 18B and shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
The atmosphere was different inside the room than it had been outside. He hadn't been prepared for the change, though he'd been expecting it. Most of the noise from outside was buffered, casting the room in silence. Marshall was lying on a bed in the middle of the room, next to the one window, which had drapes pulled down in front of it, adding an intimidating dim quality to Vaughn's already cloudy mood.  
  
Around the bed was a host of machinery, helping Marshall to breathe, but the one Vaughn noticed first was the constantly-beeping heart monitor which assured him that his friend was indeed still alive, although you couldn't tell by looking.  
  
Cautiously, Vaughn moved closer to the bed, sighing as he fell short of reaching it. Finally, he gathered his resolve, slid the nearest chair next to where his friend lay, and sat down quickly.  
  
"Well," he began, unsure of how to continue.  
  
This is ridiculous, Vaughn thought. You wanted to come in here, and now that you're here, you can't think of what you want to do. At least, Vaughn noted with rising resistance, at least I'm positive that there's nowhere else I want to be right now than right here. And I'm NOT going to run.  
  
Vaughn looked again at his friend's still form, his eyes closed, hands at his side, and surged from the chair, blurting out the first thing that came to his mind.  
  
"Oh Hell, Marshall. Why did you have to do that? Why did you have to let yourself get shot for me?" He said aloud, pacing back and forth across the room unconsciously, hands clutched into fists at his sides. "I don't know why I have any friends. I don't deserve them. I only take advantage of them, and ignore them because I'm always thinking about myself. I don't think about their problems, only about my own. I should have been the one who was shot today, Marshall, not you! Why did you make that sacrifice for me?"  
  
Vaughn's eyes were pleading as he stopped to look at his friend. He could feel tears brimming at his eyes, threatening to fall. "Don't you know that I'm not worth saving?"  
  
With the words out in the open, Vaughn found himself staring blankly ahead. It was as if expelling them left the teenager vulnerable and open to the harsh realities of the world. Did he really mean what he said? He was so confused, so defenseless, still so tired and worn.  
  
Slowly, Vaughn moved toward the chair again, pulled it back, the legs scraping against the tiled floor, and sat down once more, staring straight ahead. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, concentrating on his friend's closed eyes, willing them to open. "I don't think I've ever acknowledged aloud that I consider you a friend, not to myself or to anyone, and I regret that now. I've gone through the first sixteen years of my life without any real friends, not really, anyway, and somehow over the past year I found four and I wasn't even trying. It's amazing how you can go through your life without realizing that you've touched someone, without realizing that someone has touched you." A tear slid down Vaughn's cheek unheeded. Suddenly, he reached out and gently took Marshall's hand in his own, clasping it tightly, silently urging him with all his willpower to simply return the gesture. "Come on, Marshall. You've got to wake up now," Vaughn sobbed. "We're all waiting for you. Lucas, Josie, Corrine, Z'... me... I know you're in there and I know you want to come back to us. All you have to do is open your eyes."  
  
The clock ticked away the minutes and nothing happened. Marshall didn't move, but neither did Vaughn. Outside the day was waning but Vaughn didn't want to leave. The door swung inward, a nurse poked her head inside. "Visiting hours are almost over, son. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's OK." Vaughn said limply, even though it wasn't.  
  
The nurse was sympathetic. "I'll give you a little bit longer." Vaughn thanked her and the door closed quietly behind her as she exited.  
  
Vaughn looked back at his unconscious friend hopelessly. "I've got to go now, Marshall. I'm sorry, I don't want to go. I have to, but I'll be back tomorrow, I promise, and I'll come back every day until you wake up, if it has to take that long. We'll all be here."  
  
It was then, just as Vaughn was about to release his grip on Marshall's hand that he felt something, a tremor, a slight squeeze. Vaughn gasped, falling silent. You imagined it, he told himself. Marshall didn't move, you imagined it because you wanted it to happen that badly. Nothing's changed. He hasn't woken up... But then he felt it again, stronger, and Vaughn knew he wasn't dreaming it. Hope rose in his gut, warming his body thoroughly. "Marshall?" He called out.  
  
Marshall opened his eyes.  
  
Vaughn let out a relieved sigh, felt the tears sliding down his cheeks tenfold as he gripped Marshall's hand with both of his own. "Marshall," he said gratefully. "It's about time, buddy."  
  
Marshall opened his mouth to speak, wincing in pain, but tried again anyway. "Vaughn?" He questioned, his voice weak and slightly confused. "Where am I?"  
  
"You're at Mercy Hospital, Marshall. But you're going to be OK now. Trust me."  
  
Marshall didn't say anything for a minute, then nodded slowly. "I believe you."  
  
It suddenly occurred to Vaughn that he should tell the others, and the nurse too, and he stood up suddenly, releasing his friend's hand. "I'll go get the doctor. Be right back, OK?" Marshall nodded and Vaughn headed toward the door.  
  
He was about to turn the knob when he suddenly stopped and looked back toward the bed. Raising his eyes slightly, he met his injured friend's gaze. "Oh, and Marshall? ... Thank you."  
  
The nurse that had warned Vaughn earlier relaxed her visiting hours policy for the happy group, allowing them to stay an extra half hour before shooing them out of Marshall's room to give him some rest.  
  
Vaughn was the first one out of the door, and he froze at the sight that greeted him.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
Victor Pearson was at the desk across the room, fully suited like he'd just gotten out of the office, talking to the call nurse on duty. When he heard his son's voice, he turned around and Vaughn noticed the bags under his eyes, the worried expression his father wore.  
  
"Vaughn!" Victor Pearson called out, crossing the room in three long strides. He gathered his startled son in both arms and gave him a huge hug before abruptly pulling away and smoothing out his suit reflexively. "They told me you were up here, son. I've been looking for you. I—I was worried about you..."  
  
"Dad, when did you—"Vaughn dropped off mid-sentence, not even sure what he was going to ask. His dad was looking for him. He was worried about him.  
  
"You were worried about me?" He asked, feeling stupid immediately after the words left his mouth.  
  
Victor looked at him as if the question were absurd. "Of course I was worried. I heard the news, and then the school called, and they said they hadn't found you, that I should come down here and look, and I—I don't want to lose you, Vaughn." Victor put a hand on his son's shoulder, looking extremely awkward, yet somehow sincere. "I thought that losing your mother would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do, Vaughn... But today I realized that losing you would have been the hardest thing. I can't lose you." Victor looked stunned at his own words, an enormous display of affection never before witnessed between father and son.  
  
Vaughn stared at his father blankly, then suddenly became aware of his audience, standing behind him like silent sentinels, unaware with his back turned to them, that they were all just as shocked by the display as the two in the middle of the room. Seeing his father there, hearing the words he'd always wanted to hear from him, it all seemed to wash away the horror of the day, and without warning, Vaughn wrapped his arms around his father and hugged him back, feeling the tears start to fall again. "I love you dad."  
  
Victor put his hand on his son's back, patting him comfortingly. "I'm glad you're OK, son... I—I love you too." For the first time since before the whole ordeal began, before Marshall, before Madison, before Chris Ghent, Vaughn smiled. 


	8. Epilogue

Disclaimer: See first chapter  
  
Rating: PG-15  
  
Epilogue  
  
The weather was warm and embracing and the sun smiling down on them affectionately when, four days later, Blake Holsey High, cleared and scrubbed clean of the terrors of the day that no student in the school would ever forget, closed down for the day and all the students, faculty, and staff gathered on the front lawn all in black. Seated in rows of folding chairs and before a podium on a stage erected for the occasion, every member of the school was present to witness the assembly. Marshall Wheeler had been released for the day, with strict orders from his doctor to return immediately following the memorial to honor his fallen classmates. He had begrudgingly obliged, already bored with the hospital, and dismayed to learn he wouldn't be fully released for another three days.  
  
He sat now, dressed in a suit his brother had brought him, in a wheelchair amidst the crowd. On one side sat Grant Wheeler and the nurse that Dr. Corben had sent along with Marshall to make sure that he came back immediately following the memorial. On the other side, Josie Trent and Lucas Randall were seated, Josie holding Marshall's hand for moral support. They exchanged a smile and Josie gave her friend a light kiss on the cheek, "I'm glad you could come." She told him.  
  
"Me too."  
  
On the stage, in front of the hundreds of students and faculty members, there were some more chairs. Principal Durst sat in one, Victor Pearson in another, Professor Zachary in a third, and Corrine Baxter in the fourth. One was empty, its former occupant having vacated. Standing before the podium, Vaughn Pearson addressed his classmates. The whole memorial was beautiful, Vaughn noted, tears stinging his eyes. Never had he seen so many flowers in one place, or so few dry eyes. He'd been approached by Principal Durst herself, at the request of Professor Zachary, to give a speech for his fallen classmates, and he had requested a friend's presence, more for his own support than for anything else, Vaughn admitted to himself. Corrine was more than willing to stand with him to honor their lost friends.  
  
Vaughn stepped up to the podium, adjusting the microphone and looking down at the speech he had prepared before returning his gaze to the silent crowd. He felt afraid, placed before the crowd, singled out as he was, but then his eyes met with his friends – Marshall, Josie, and Lucas in the front row, Tina Gedrick and Tyler Henson in another place – and he felt confident once more. It helped to know that behind him, his father watched him, believed in him, and that was all the support Vaughn needed to continue.  
  
"Thank you all, uh, for coming here today. I'm glad everyone could be here to remember... our friends, even if it means having to relive that day. I'm sure no one here predicted that the events of Monday, March 8th, 2004 would occur, not at Blake Holsey High, not to anyone we ever knew. The truth is that no one can ever predict these things, and that no matter how much you want to blame yourself for them, they're not your fault. I learned this the hard way. I still feel guilty for what happened, even though I had no control over anyone's actions but my own. It's easy to blame yourself, to think 'maybe if I had paid attention more,' or 'maybe if I'd been nicer to people, noticed them more, none of this would have happened.'  
  
"I've felt the same things over and over, but I'm learning. I'm learning to move on and to not blame myself for the actions of another person, to move on and accept the things I cannot change.  
  
"I also do not blame Chris Ghent for what happened. It is easy to blame other people without looking at the facts when one's emotions are at stake. Chris Ghent was a troubled person. He felt that no one was watching, and he was probably right. What he did was not right, but he's gone now, and cannot be blamed. Charging him with his crimes would amount to nothing now, and would not contribute to moving on.  
  
"I've learned something else these past few days, and I want to share it with you all. Though I know now that I cannot change the past, I can re- charter my course for the future, and I will start by acknowledging my friends. It is easy to overlook people. Everyone's got problems of their own, but no one should be neglected. If you spent just a little time looking past your own problems and helping someone else out, even if it's just to smile at them, or wave, or say 'hello', it's enough to change a person's life. It may seem ridiculous, but it's true. Everyone deserves to be noticed, and no person should ever be taken for granted.  
  
"Take a look around you and look at who is here, don't forget who is not and learn to live again so that you may help others to do the same."  
  
Vaughn stepped back and seated himself in his chair, allowing Corrine to take the podium. Quietly adjusting the mike, she spoke into it softly, "The sheet next to the stage is covering a statue that will act as a reminder of a day that should not be forgotten. It was erected yesterday in memory of those who lost their lives on March 8th, 2004. We will never forget them: Janette Arnosky, Hillary Clark, Robert Corte, Madison Flynn, Benjamin Hughes, Professor Franklin Jacobs, Kenneth Johnson, Gina Locke, Britney Nelson, Professor Mary Rhom, Terrence Roman, Jamie Shields, Julie Skiezsa, Colin Summerlee, Gary Trask, Harold Voorhies, and Victoria Welles." Corrine stepped back as the sheet was pulled away to reveal an oblong-shaped statue with the date and the names of each victim etched into it.  
  
Vaughn moved toward the podium once more, giving Corrine an encouraging smile as she swiped at the corner of her eye. She returned the gesture, taking her seat and smoothing her skirt out over her knees. Vaughn took a deep breath and faced the crowd once more. "Again, I'd like to thank you all for coming to be a part of this ceremony. Last Monday was a terrible tragedy, but we cannot go away from this terrible experience without having learned anything. I beg you not to forget my advice to pay more attention to the people around you, and more than that, don't ever forget the people who died that day. They can no longer be with us in body, but their spirits will always live on, in our memories and in our hearts. Thank you." Vaughn exited from the stage to the applause of the entire student and staff population, stealing a glance at his father and Professor Zachary before he did so. He joined together with his friends and the five teenagers watched as students filed past the memorial, admiring it in contemplative silence. He and the others were heading back to the hospital now to be with Marshall so the teen wouldn't be lonely. There was a lunch after the ceremony that they were skipping, which Principal Durst had felt Vaughn should be present at, but he assumed she understood when he announced he'd rather spend the afternoon with his friend.  
  
Josie moved next to Vaughn when he reached them, clasping his hand in her own and Vaughn smiled, looking at each of his friends in turn. The nurse from Mercy approached them after a minute and told Marshall it was time to go back to the hospital.  
  
"Aww, do I have to? Can't I stay just another hour?" He asked her innocently, receiving a stern look in reply.  
  
"I think it's time we went back, Marshall." Lucas said, taking control of the wheelchair.  
  
"Fine... mom..." Marshall grumbled under his breath. Vaughn smiled and stole one final glance at the towering Blake Holsey High before following his friends to the car. 


End file.
